


Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Drinks Too Much Coffee and Doesn't Sleep Enough, Best Friends, Cravings, Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Smut, Friendship / Flirting / Thinking of You Fest, I totally made it up, John is a hero, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Physical desire, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Season/Series 03, Pretending To Be Married, Seeing And Not Observing, Sex Toys, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Surprise Appearance of New Original Character, Toying With Your Feels, Weird Turn Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 96,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For his entire life Sherlock Holmes has had complete mastery over his transport. He drives it harder than he should, is careless with it, and makes it bend to his will. His transport has always done it's duty but lately Sherlock's transport has been making some demands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pajamas and Breakfast

 

Sherlock was in trouble and there wasn’t anyone anywhere who could help him. All he could do was lock himself away in his bedroom until John left for the day and then creep around like the freak he finally felt he was and simply _moon_ over the good doctor. Sherlock was having issues at long last, things he really didn’t know how to deal with, things for once that he could not simply will away. Sherlock tried giving himself a lecture about transport and self-control but the last few weeks had taught him that words did very little to sooth the urges that had grown more and more demanding.

John was an excellent doctor; it could _not_ be mentioned enough. After Mary shot the detective the doctor promptly walked away from his new wife and saw to every single one of Sherlock’s needs without hesitation, waving off offers of private nurses and home-care, insisting that he could take care of his best friend _without assistance_. He had. John couldn’t be with Mary, not after that. Mycroft’s people had packed up all of John’s possessions and returned them to Baker Street that same day and John had stayed until the holidays. Once Christmas approached the good doctor had sighed deeply and moved back in with the then heavily pregnant Mary. The doctor only took some of his clothes and a few books with him though, perhaps even then John had realized things would never really work out. As Sherlock aimlessly rifled through John’s belongings the detective first experienced the initial symptoms of his current problem.

Sherlock missed John. It wasn’t the same as when he’d missed John while he was pretending to be dead. That was a distant kind of thing compared to this, though it hadn’t been easy at all. At least when Sherlock was dead he had a mission to focus on, tasks to accomplish but now, Sherlock was home in London, situated in the flat that had been home to both of them together for so long, and Sherlock became acutely aware of the space that was no longer occupied by one John Watson. He’d missed his opportunity and Mary had won. Sherlock stole one of John’s vests from his dirty laundry and wouldn’t even admit to himself that he could only sleep when it was under his pillow.

For a while there had been a vacuum of sorts in 221 B, a doctor shaped black-hole that prevented the flat from being warm and welcoming. It hadn’t been until John returned from his short-lived marriage to assist Sherlock, and to flee his wife, that Sherlock realized that his chance had finally arrived. Sherlock had rarefied physical desires now, and all of them were centered firmly around John.

The detective had always found John to be the utmost comfort, that rock, that protector, that nurturer. Sherlock had grown accustomed to the almost effortless amount of care that flowed from John as naturally as he breathed. For all the time they’d coexisted John had fed Sherlock, made sure he rested regularly, and patched him up with only small cautionary lectures. He protected Sherlock with words and deeds, shielding him from the attacks of misunderstanding others had toward Sherlock, and boldly told people to just fuck off when they got into the detective’s face. Now it was if John were attuned to Sherlock’s every need, no longer asking what Sherlock required, simply taking care of him as if he were born to do nothing else.

Originally Sherlock had attributed the warm sensation he’d experienced around John as intense friendship. Even as socially unaware as he was Sherlock understood that his relationship with John was extraordinarily close, even for best friends as anyone with eyes could clearly see they were. No one questioned their mutual devotion though they often misunderstood its manifestation. It wasn’t until later that Sherlock began to understand his body was experiencing something for the first time ever, _desire for another person_.

John had moved back to Baker Street since the fiasco with Magnusson. He’d given it a good go with Mary, helping her through their pregnancy, devoting himself to being a father and husband with the same ferocity he’d shown when he’d gone to war. It wasn’t for lack of effort on John’s part that it didn’t work out. Mary had told John over and over again how much she loved him, how much she wanted things to work between them, and John tried to believe, he really had. Sherlock watched a reluctantly mistrustful John fall to pieces one crumbling bit at a time in his sham of a life, and watched as that same life crushed John even harder when he found out that their little girl wasn’t his, and that Mary had been stepping out with her-not-exactly-ex-boyfriend David for years. Her long-time lover was fine with her being married but John was _not_ fine with his wife having an ongoing affair.

The news about the baby had devastated John. Mary shouting the facts to him as part of her closing salvo on their last night together as a married couple. The doctor turned up at Baker Street at two in the morning soaked to the bone. John had walked all the way from his now abandoned home with Mary and simply stood on the stoop in the rain until Sherlock led him inside by the hand, dried him off and put him to bed in his old room which was waiting for him. John had planned on being a good dad even if his feelings for Mary had ebbed against his will until they were entirely gone.

The end of his marriage didn’t trouble the doctor as much as the loss of his daughter did. Mary had lied and deceived John, she’d shot Sherlock, and she had hidden her past from the soldier, presenting it to him in a manner she had known would keep it as good as hidden forever but the baby had been innocent of all that. John was a man of honor, and Mary the perfect _femme fatale_. Sherlock had read her file, made a copy, and then secreted back into John’s desk where he’d kept it for all those long weeks when he’d helped Sherlock recuperate from his injury. If those weeks hadn’t happened Sherlock might have been able to keep his much prized control over his transport. As it was, helping his friend mend was a struggle because all Sherlock wanted to do was hold the man tight and never let go.

Recently the few mental restraints he had left had failed and Sherlock was completely vulnerable to reacting physically around John! That first breakfast they’d shared the day after John had returned from leaving Mary had taught Sherlock a shocking lesson and he could barely look at toast anymore without developing some very confused impulses that he decided had to do with seeing John’s lips a bit shiny with butter, and how he’d flicked that tongue of his out to catch the crumbs. Sherlock had flushed deeply and had sported the most lovelorn expression until he’d caught himself, smartly flicking open the newspaper so he could close his eyes and collect himself. Forcing himself on his shattered friend would be of no help to his firmly heterosexual doctor!

John had nattered on between bites, telling Sherlock about his plans for the day. Sherlock realized John was going to work with greater frequency now that the detective’s health was essentially back to normal but he also seemed so much lighter and happier so Sherlock didn’t complain. Sherlock’s scar still felt strange and probably always would but there was no reason for the taller man to require round the clock medical supervision like he had. John had started up with a new clinic, leaving behind his old job and his old co-workers as he moved on from his disastrous marriage and all its reminders. Mary had taken her daughter and moved away with David somewhere, telling none of their old acquaintances a thing, forcing John to be the bigger man and give their excuses. “It didn’t work out.” was all he would say and bore their disapproval over the perception that he’d forsaken his first-born child capriciously. It made Sherlock very upset to find people thought poorly about the long-suffering doctor. “I’ll be back for dinner though.” John was smiling at Sherlock.

“Would you like to eat out tonight?” Sherlock had almost asked John out properly, changing his words at the very last moment to make them seem more innocuous. In truth Sherlock didn’t want to leave John free to make dinner plans with someone else. The doctor had no trouble meeting women. By and large John even remained friendly with those that had dumped him because of his inability to contain his boyish devotion to getting hurt frequently with his best friend. It would be unsurprising in fact if he made it through the morning without confirming an engagement with one woman or another. Sherlock wondered why he felt a weird pang deep inside when that thought flittered through his mind.

John was always a surprise and didn’t hesitate before saying, “It’s a date. I’ll see you here at about six. Try not to contaminate the flat while I’m gone.” John got up and patted Sherlock’s arm before taking himself away for the day. Sherlock had blushed and was grateful that John had just grabbed his coat and wallet before nearly running out the door, nearly late to catch his bus.

It _wasn’t_ a date, he knew that he really knew that, but still Sherlock was nervous and excited. He’d discovered he rather enjoyed watching John Watson eat. Sharing a meal with John was revelatory as the soldier fully enjoyed whatever dish was set in front of him to the fullest. He wasn’t shy about trying new things, seeking out new or unusual restaurants time and time again; dragging Sherlock along with him on his endless quest to find something Sherlock would consume willingly. Sushi had been a complete disaster as were the three attempts Sherlock made at eating pizza. Thai was always a winner, Sherlock definitely had a soft spot for Chinese, and John had introduced him to steamed barbeque pork buns, a delight which the once flavor indifferent detective found irresistible. Sherlock developed a taste for anything curried from anywhere. Anything they could find that approximated Mexican food was fought over greedily, and that eating at Angelo’s was always a special treat went without saying. Very regularly John would drag Sherlock out to someplace with an interesting food reputation and make him try something new one more time.

Sherlock managed to concentrate on experiments until lunch where he had a piece of fruit and wondered what he would wear to dinner. That led him to his bedroom where he began to mull over his clothes with furious intent. Until today Sherlock would have known instantly what was appropriate to wear but for tonight, for his _not-date_ with John, Sherlock was torn. Eventually he had two suits laid out side by side, but when he thought on it he decided less was more and chose the least extravagant of the pair and hung his choice on the door-hook.

Sherlock fiddled with his hair. Normally he just ran his fingers through it unless he was on a case and needed a disguise. John didn’t seem to notice either way, he always just saw Sherlock and not the disguise he was wearing which was just one of the many reasons they were best friends, John knew the difference between Sherlock wearing a mask and Sherlock just being himself. Deciding to just keep everything low key but not being able to entirely help himself Sherlock ruffled his curls artfully several different ways first before shaking them back into place with a toss of his head.

Sherlock was still trying to decide how to proceed. John was not gay. This was a well-supported fact that John had personally assured nearly everyone of. Sherlock had no designated sexuality. He’d read of people being asexual and for a time had considered himself so. He’d experienced spontaneous erections as every male teen did but apart from that Sherlock was not driven by those particular biological urges. That had all changed while he’d dabbled with drugs. Then Sherlock discovered his body was capable of intense pleasure and he had spent a lot of time researching exactly how to make that pleasure happen as often as possible.

Sherlock found the human body to be arousing as well, not the personalities, most people were entirely tedious but that didn’t stop Sherlock from collecting mental images of pleasing attributes that he then stored away in his mind palace. A pair of lips from one, the curve of a bicep from another, a swell of hip or just the right amount of ride in a pair of breasts. He found so much of it beautiful but had never once found all of someone pleasing. At the age of thirty-seven years the world’s only consulting detective was a virgin. Sherlock had never been able to bring himself to share physical intimacy with anyone, just the thought of it made him shudder with revulsion. It required something of him he was never able to produce, trust. Sherlock could not know a potential lover enough to trust them with himself when he was in such a vulnerable state. Until recently Sherlock had given no more than cursory thought toward obtaining a lover, instead choosing from the multitude of artificial masturbatory options available to a well-heeled man with internet access and a credit card. Denying himself human contact in any intimate way Sherlock did what he did and channeled everything into its own special room of his mind palace, and since he was a scientist, he was thorough.

Sherlock’s toy chest was impressive. At his age and with his curiosity Sherlock had acquired a substantial collection of sex paraphernalia. Most were simply part of the overall collection, never used, simply taking its place amongst its brethren. Sherlock had dildos of all shapes, sizes, and materials. He had a bizarre collection of vibrators in every conceivable configuration. During his sojourn into BDSM Sherlock had assembled crops, whips, restraints of all sorts, gags, and blinders. The entire collection was hidden beneath his bed, accessed by a rather ingenious adaption that allowed Sherlock’s mattress to lift right up like a giant lid to reveal his hoard.

The portion of toys Sherlock _did_ utilize were kept in a small basket near the edge. He’d sampled and discarded numerous varieties before settling on a few that had become his preference. Sherlock had simple tastes that were refined down to using a fleshlight with an anal adaption as well as a series of modest plugs. Sherlock had tried larger ones but had never found enjoyment in the overwhelming girth of them. The few he liked consistently tended to be short and nearly slender compared to most that were available. Deciding to take the edge off his nerves Sherlock set himself up to play.

Sherlock began by sweeping the flat for surveillance devices because his brother was half a step shy of being a creeper, locking the door to the flat with the chain because Mrs. Hudson never thought to knock and always had her keys, and bringing his mobile with him just in case John or Lestrade called. Once he was able to relax Sherlock allowed himself to tune out to everything around him and focus on getting off.

It was ridiculously easy to become aroused now.  Before his current situation Sherlock had always been able to ignore his body’s urges until he had leisure to deal with his transport’s requirements.  It used to take a certain atmosphere, a certain amount of preparation, and a lot of privacy as Sherlock mentally wandered in his room filled with the endless images he found arousing. Now all Sherlock had to do was think of John any way the soldier was. Sherlock found absolutely everything about John Watson to be physically stimulating. _Those wretched jumpers!_ Awful or not Sherlock wanted to caress every inch of their softness to feel the hardness of John beneath. _In the morning, the bathrobe!_ It was awful too, nothing John owned by way of clothing had any sort of dignity. Terrycloth should not be arousing but it _was_. The way it clung to every inch of John’s backside when he walked, the way it draped against his thighs when he sat, the way it persistently fell open to reveal whatever pajama John had chosen the night before.

It was silly to find cotton pajamas sexy, especially ones with childish patterns on it, John shamelessly able to saunter around with ducks or recognizable cartoon figures, or lately, superheroes, prancing all over his body. John was secure in his masculinity, anyone who saw the things he called socks could attest to that. The man wore anything that had more than three colors, he did not care! Sherlock felt himself blush when he realized he’d achieved an erection thinking about sleepwear and footwear of the un-sexiest nature.

Sherlock knew it wasn’t the clothes. It was John. Strong, capable, confident, easy going, rascally, earthy, brave, beautiful John, Sherlock found _all_ of John’s parts to be enchanting. When he’d first laid eyes on John even the horrid florescent lights of the mortuary had not been able to mute the exquisite symphony of John’s alluring body language. Everything about the man had screamed itself at the detective who was helpless before the onslaught of his own mind as he absorbed John’s life with that first fatal glance. John had made it worse by being _impressed_ of all things, and by being so unrepentantly useful.

Sherlock had not allowed himself to think of John as anything more than a friend. It was of paramount importance to keep his distance as much as possible but it hadn’t stopped everyone from seeing how attached he was to the soldier. John didn’t seem to realize that he had attracted Sherlock irrevocably and Sherlock cursed that first meal together when he’d panicked and made too big a deal about wanting to stay single. He wished to take back his words, that he could tell John he’d divorced his work, and was interested in living in sin with John but had never managed to make himself push John’s boundaries. _John wasn’t gay_ and Sherlock valued his best friend too much to force himself on the man.

Sherlock still had to figure out how to let John know how he affected the detective. He couldn’t hide it anymore and Sherlock didn’t want to lose his dignity in public. He was becoming desperate now. It was just a matter of time before one of the many inconvenient erections he’d experienced lately made itself known, probably someplace humiliating like at the Yard or while at a crime scene. Sherlock didn’t know how to talk to John about it. It would end everything between them. John would leave, Sherlock knew it. _John_ wasn’t gay, he _wasn’t_ gay, _he wasn’t gay_.

Oh god, Sherlock _wanted_ him so badly. For the first time in his life Sherlock needed to imagine a specific person in order to continue masturbating. He made sure the fleshlight was securely positioned in its mount, slicked his erection liberally with lube and began slowly. _Sherlock wondered how it would feel to top John, how warm would his body be, how tight? Would Sherlock be able to bottom out their first time or would they need to work at it? Would John want to top him?_

Sherlock was afraid of being topped. His few experiments had shown him that a lot of careful preparation was required and the handful of orgasms he’d managed while penetrated by a toy had been pallid compared to ones where’d he hadn’t. He enjoyed prostate stimulation but apart from that the idea of being penetrated himself was not enthralling. Sherlock felt his erection beginning to flag as he lost focus over his fantasy. _Maybe frottage would work better, if the situation ever became remotely possible_. How he would ever manage to maneuver John into frotting with him was outside of Sherlock’s ability to parse, for now simply going over John’s body in his mind would do.

Sherlock concentrated, envisioning by order of temptation. _John’s beautiful behind; it looked firm and was enticingly tight. His thighs; John’s thighs were heavy with muscle, sturdy and powerful. John’s back. Oh god the fantasies Sherlock had about John’s back! He wanted to taste it, lay pressed against it, feel those scars brush against his skin, to feel them slide beneath him as he fucked John’s ass the way he was fucking this fleshlight_. Sherlock had already increased his pace, finding his pleasure increase dramatically as he envisioned each bit of John in turn.  Suddenly Sherlock remembered how John had eaten a banana while on a case earlier this week. _They’d been on a stake-out but John had learned to bring his new favorite snack wherever they went, and in three quick bites he’d consumed the entire thing. The first bite, the way John had opened his mouth and simply slide a third of the fruit between his lips had made Sherlock nearly groan out loud_.

Sherlock found himself with his hands braced on the mount, his hips flashing back and forth as he fucked the device feverishly. John’s mouth, _oh god_ , John’s butter-slicked, toast-crumbed mouth. With a loud awkward moan Sherlock came. He collapsed onto his bed, his face burning with embarrassment even as he glowed with contentment. _He really was a freak. Who got off on pajamas, and memories of breakfast?_

It was half an hour before Sherlock could drag himself out of his bed to clean everything thoroughly and pack it all away. He lay down naked for a while longer before showering, shaving, and laying naked on his bed some more. Sherlock dozed until late in the afternoon, then needed to damp his hair down to get rid of the weird bed-head that had occurred, dressed in his selected suit, and began to wait for John to come home.

 


	2. Not A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has relieved his tension and has gotten himself ready for his not-date with John.

The doctor showed up at precisely six, “Oi look at you! I’m going to go get pretty too, I need a shower after the day I’ve had.” John did indeed look a bit worn. He was smiling though and bumped past Sherlock in a friendly fashion to make his way to the shower. Sherlock simply stood where John had touched him last with a goofy smile on his face as he listened to John get ready. Only a minute after getting home John was washing and singing in the shower. Sherlock had to laugh, John really could not sing but it didn’t stop him from shouting nearly at the top of his lungs as he cleaned himself up, “Shit, I need my robe. _Sherlock go grab my robe_!”

Sherlock went to John’s room and took his robe off his door, burying his nose in the nape of it first to get an impression of John’s personal scent. Tea was always the first thing to come to mind whenever Sherlock’s sensitive nose caught traces of John. The doctor was complex and Sherlock enjoyed the long slow identification process he’d begun when John had first moved in. John smelled differently depending on his mood and Sherlock knew the notes and layers enough to identify everything that had come to represent John in his mind, the chaotic sterility of the clinic, the slight overlay of other people’s aftershave or perfume, the slight rankness of the busy streets. Sherlock indulged for only a moment before rapping politely on the bathroom door.

The tall man was surprised when John just pulled it open, his face partially covered with shaving cream and wearing only a towel low on his hips, “Anything else?” Sherlock tried to come off as irritated but only sounded hungry. John left the door open and finished shaving with a few quick passes before he pointed towards his hips. Sherlock’s eyes locked onto the indicated area and then nearly groaned because John then bent over the sink to rinse his face off but kept talking. It took everything in Sherlock not to reach out and just run his hands over every inch of area currently poorly hidden by John’s wretchedly small towel which hung haphazardly across the thigh furthest from Sherlock, teasing him.

“I think I’ve got love-handles. I’ve got to start saying no to Mrs. Hudson. The woman bakes far too often and too well. Look at these!” John was back to looking into the mirror and poking a finger into his waist before rubbing his hand back and forth over the entire expanse. He was undeniably softer around the middle but it only made Sherlock want to touch John even more. The hair from John’s chest narrowed to a flirtatious line that disappeared beneath the towel. Sherlock blinked when John poked his belly, “Yep. Love handles _and_ a pot! It’s not fair. Look at you, you’re bloody perfect and I’m going to seed.”

“You told me you could hear the wind whistling through my rib-cage, how is that perfect?” retorted Sherlock, taking the opportunity to lean against the door-frame and continue enjoying the spectacular view. The army had been very good to John’s physique, slight tum or not, the rest of John Watson was in a word, _delicious_.

John rolled his eyes, “I said that to get you to eat. I swear I’m going to have to sit on your lap and force-feed you baby-bird style.” Sherlock couldn’t respond to that, instantly lost in a fantasy of having John straddle him. _Sherlock would eat anything John tried to feed him that way, even the pizza which had made him gag_. John rubbed his stomach again and Sherlock nearly groaned once more as John went on, “You know you’re gorgeous, don’t fish for compliments. I’ve got nothing to work with and all of it is falling apart.”

“I wouldn’t say you’ve got nothing to work with, all of it looks good to me.” said Sherlock without thought. He nearly fainted with shock when he heard the words escape his lips.

John didn’t seem to be offended; instead he gave Sherlock a grin via the mirror, “Yeah? Well, maybe my arse is alright; at least it hasn’t slid down the back of my thighs like Harry’s did. It must be all the running around London we do, keep’s a bloke’s bum from falling. We should market it as an exercise regime. We’d make a fortune _and_ help stop crime.”

“I can film you running down the next criminal if you want, a paying audience would want to see how exercising can benefit their posteriors.” Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from flirting, just a bit. John would tell him if he went too far.

“If that’s how you’re going to sell it we’ll have to film _your_ bum, it’s the award winner at this flat. Okay, give me two minutes to jump into some clothes and I’ll be ready.” John brushed past Sherlock again, smiling up at his friend on his way by. Sherlock smiled back and watched John walk up the stairs, one hand holding the barely clinging towel, his bathrobe hanging off his arm. Sherlock nearly groaned out loud, as it was a small woof of appreciation escaped him. He hoped John didn’t hear. It _was_ unfair. John might think he was going to seed but every inch of him begged kisses and touches.

John was chatty on the taxi ride to the restaurant he’d chosen, “One of the nurses told me to give this place a try, here’s hoping!” John’s eyes were bright and Sherlock couldn’t help but respond to the man’s obvious anticipation. When they were seated and looking over the menu John looked torn, “Okay, I want to try at least three of the appetizers, share with me, that way I don’t feel like a greedy shit.”

“If that’s what you want John.” Sherlock was more than happy to give up trying to select something. He really wasn’t interested in food and normally just chose something at random, “You may as well pick the mains too.”

“I’m getting something with extra calories in it then; you are going to blow away.” John put in a substantial order, “Bring the wine now though, Sherlock you pick the wine, I can never sort out the names.” Sherlock glanced over the wine list and ordered a bottle that would go with the eclectic selection they were now expecting. Half-way through the meal they ordered a second.

It was fun. Dinners out with John always were. They got a lot of strange looks when they ended up sharing the last plate but Sherlock didn’t care because John looked so pleased with every new bite that Sherlock tasted. Sherlock even managed to eat most of his meal despite being very full from the appetizers and John looked fit to burst with both the excess as well as pride, “I’m going to pop.”

“We can get rid of our trousers when we get home. God, I ate half the restaurant.” John did look uncomfortable and both of them fell to giggling. They were more than a little tipsy. Sherlock paid the tab while John sorted out the tip and they went for a walk for a while to settle themselves before going home. John was as good as his word. The second they returned to Baker Street they went to their separate rooms and climbed right into their pajamas and robes before ensconcing themselves in the living room to enjoy tea and crap telly. Both of them were still a little buzzed from the wine from dinner and amused themselves by watching the shopping channel and trying to convince the other to purchase each offering. The process had them both in stitches.

“You’ve got puppies on your pajamas. Where on earth do you find adult pajamas with puppies on them?” Sherlock had to comment, he couldn’t help himself. John was too adorable.

“It’s amazing what you can find if you keep your eye out.” replied John. “Plus I’m small so I suppose there’s kids out there my size. I just make the best of things.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not any bigger, you cause enough damage the size that you are. Personally I’ve always enjoyed that expression of sick realization when you turn the tables on someone twice your size, seeing that on their faces never gets old. I love it when you go off on people.” Sherlock decided he should shut up now; he was getting a bit too complimentary.

“Then I’m going to say I love the fact that you provide me so many opportunities to provide you enjoyment. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a doctor but there’s a lot to be said for being to being to kick a little arse on a regular basis. We’re a perfect team.” Sherlock could not disagree. Cases practically solved themselves when Sherlock and John worked together. They rarely failed to catch the bad guy, and as much as both John and Sherlock enjoyed a tussle their cases didn’t always end with a fight to the finish. “I hope I can keep helping you, god I’m getting creaky too. Isn’t that fantastic, you get better looking with time and it’s just a matter of months before I’m probably round as a pumpkin and totally gray.”

“I’d still roll you around with me. You could crush the baddies.” teased Sherlock and John barked out a laugh. “You’ve only gained a stone since we first met.”

“You’ve lost at least that much, what, am I sucking the fat cells off of you? Unfair!” John turned, bending over to pick up their cups to return them to the kitchen which was fortunate because Sherlock turned bright red when John said “suck” and if the doctor had even glanced at Sherlock he would have asked about it and would have seen Sherlock’s eyes locked onto his behind. The detective could _not_ stop himself from looking! Sherlock would be willing to do a lot to get John to suck anything off of him, though not quite in the manner John had suggested.

“Now who’s fishing for compliments? None of your many girlfriends seemed to mind your physique and if you’re going to go on about mine then I’m going to say at least you don’t look like a skin covered skeleton most of the time. I have horribly knobby knees and everything about me is just odd. It’s not pleasant to deal with. Your partners are lucky; lots of people appreciate a decent armful.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush.” called John from the kitchen, “I like your knees and you’re not _skeletal_ though you do need to eat a lot more. In fact, this is my new mission. I’m giving your fat cells back. I’m going to lose this stone and you’re going to gain it back.”

Sherlock was aghast and protested instantly, “ _Why in the world would you want to lose a stone_? You’re perfectly fine.” it had to be the wine; Sherlock shouldn’t talk to John like they were an old married couple. _Did men even talk to each other about their weight?_ Sherlock couldn’t answer that, John was the only friend he had and teasing Mycroft about his non-existent jelly belly wasn’t the same thing at all. _John could not lose a single luscious pound!_ “I’ll counter-offer, you keep your stone and I’ll agree to try and match it.”

There was silence from the kitchen and John came out a couple of minutes later with a tray filled with tea and biscuits. “Okay that’s a pretty good deal. I don’t really want to diet and frankly we exercise plenty, I doubt anyone has run more streets of London than we have. Still, what’s in it for you?”

“Potential love-handles?” offered Sherlock with a cheeky grin of his own and John rolled his eyes, “I don’t know John, is it a wager? Perhaps I would just like to finally be completely healthy. You have to admit I’ve been less testy since you’ve been feeding me on a regular basis. I find I sleep better which helps me think with increased clarity. You enjoy food and maybe I enjoy being fed up. It feels nice, like someone cares about me.”

 _No more wine with dinner_. John sat on the floor in front of the sofa where Sherlock was now stretched out, he lolled his head back and looked at Sherlock quizzically, “Someone does care about you, _me_. You’re my best mate, of course I care about you, don’t be a git. You’re my favorite person, you know that. In fact, I like you even more than I like my sister, _my only sister_ , how’s that.”

Now Sherlock rolled his eyes, “What does that prove? I could easily say the same about _you_ ; I like you more than I like my brother, _my only brother_. We hate our siblings; that’s hardly indicative of your feelings for me.”

“What, is this where I declare myself and ask for your hand?” teased John pointing at the TV screen where wedding bands were being displayed, “Sorry, but I’m old fashioned. You’d have to do the proposing. Buy me a big posh ring like that and I might say yes.”

“Don’t be silly John; you’d never wear a ring like that. It’s too heavy for your teeny tiny little hands. If you had big manly hands like mine then you could carry off a wedding ring like that. I’ll have to hold off proposing until I can find something delicate enough to suit you.” John flipped Sherlock off, both of them shaking with laughter.

They watched the wedding bands being pimped by an overly tanned couple, little giggles erupting from them as their sales hosts did their best to make the wedding bands as meaningful and worthwhile as possible, “How can they be special, they have two thousand pairs to sell. That’s not unique.”

“Is that what you want John, a unique wedding band?” When John had gotten married to Mary they’d used simple gold bands, traditional and sturdy.

“If I got married to you? It would have to be unique wouldn’t it? The sky is the limit actually. No one would bat an eye no matter how outrageous it was, everyone thinks we’ve been as good as married for years now.” The concept of being called a couple didn’t seem to bother John as much as it used to and Sherlock asked him about it. John just shrugged. “I like our life, I like living with you. It’s easy, uncomplicated. It was always work with Mary, so many compromises I needed to make. I mean, we make them too but it’s always give and take with you and me, with Mary it turned out to be all taking. That really…that really stung.”

John had never spoken of his feelings like this before. He was rolling his shoulder too, John’s good humor was leaving him and Sherlock knew the doctor would be feeling his aches and pains deeply. Sitting up Sherlock placed a leg on either side of John and began to work the knot out of his shoulder. “I should have done this ages ago.” muttered the detective, chastising himself. _Why had he never thought to offer this service to John long before this? He had learned a good deal about massage therapy thanks to a series of spa related cases_.

Sherlock found the knot right away and began to relieve the pressure. John groaned, “I’ll marry you for this Sherlock, I swear. God…right there!” Sherlock felt warm inside, tingly. It wasn’t arousal, it was different, _caring_. He was experiencing pleasure from making John feel better. It was delightful and Sherlock wanted more. Using his thumbs carefully Sherlock allowed himself to enjoy viewing the hard muscle of John’s back. John had spent a lot of time examining people today, his muscles had stiffened. Sherlock judiciously worked on John’s shoulder before moving on to his neck and John groaned even louder with relief, “Oh my _god_!”

“You like that? Your neck is strained from overcompensating for your shoulder; your tension is feeding back on itself. I’ll make a point of dealing with your shoulder with regularity. It won’t do for you to seize up during a case. I know someone who makes therapeutic massage oils. I need you hale for The Work.” Sherlock needed John _period_. This was perfect. _If John didn’t protest then Sherlock could anticipate being able to run his hands over John’s back and neck every single time he came home from work! Paradise! This was the most rewarding of evenings, even if it hadn’t been a date, it felt like what a date ought to feel like. Sherlock wasn’t sure of social rules but if this had been a date then he couldn’t expect much more contact than this._ It was a nice thought. John was sagging back and he looked completely blissful.  Sherlock liked the warm heat of John’s body against his thighs. The doctor was listing a bit, “You’re tired John, you should go to bed.”

“Don’t want to. Come sleep with me, it’s cold up there and you’re hot.” _John was obviously drunk!_ “This evening has been too nice to be over. I don’t want it to end.” If Sherlock allowed himself to be drawn into John’s bed it would be a struggle to control his impulses. Even now Sherlock was battling the urge to keep running his hands contentedly over John’s welcoming skin.

“Your bed is made for hobbits. I can’t possibly fit.” argued Sherlock. John was inebriated. He’d be embarrassed if Sherlock was in his bed when he woke, and Sherlock wasn’t lying. John’s bed was decent enough but Sherlock was a large man, too tall for John’s wee bed.

“Fine, I’m sleeping in _your_ bed then. It really is cold up there; it’s like sleeping in an icebox. I’m tired. Come sleep with me. I’m chilled.” John was huddled up now, his knees drawn tight to his chest and he looked ready to sleep where he was and Sherlock almost didn’t hear him whisper softly, “I really don’t like sleeping alone.” John sounded almost despondent.

 _Oh John_. Sherlock’s willpower was at an all-time low, “Very well John. Come on then before I have to carry you.”

John allowed himself to be heaved up after the telly was shut off. He took Sherlock by the hand and shambled after the detective before tumbling right into the side of the bed Sherlock seldom used while Sherlock plugged their mobiles in to charge. Sherlock climbed into the side he did favor and marveled once more at how suited they were. This evening was turning out so very differently than he’d been able to conceive. _John was in his bed, not romantically, still, it wasn’t an objectionable situation_. John snuggled close, his arm stretching across Sherlock’s chest as if he’d done it a million times, natural and comforting. The doctor was almost asleep, “I’m a cuddler. Sorry,” and snored only a minute later.

“Sleep John, I’ll be here.” Sherlock felt almost high. _This was wonderful_. Sherlock’s bed felt soft and cozy, John’s weight against his side was very relaxing, his body heat soaking into Sherlock until he felt pliant and drowsy. John’s fingers tightened around Sherlock’s pajama top, right above the scar on his chest and it almost felt like John was shielding it with his hand. It was a nice thought and Sherlock allowed his eyes to close as he fell asleep with John in his arms.

 _It was torture_. Sherlock woke a thousand times because John moved, shifted, rubbed, lipped, ground against, and very nearly fingered Sherlock while he dreamed. John was very clearly deeply asleep. His eyes darted back and forth; the doctor’s face flickered from expression to expression as his mind adventured. His physical reactions had nothing to do with Sherlock, he just happened to be the body next to John’s but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to respond in kind especially when John had nearly taken Sherlock in hand, instead cupping his palm high inside Sherlock’s thigh to knead gently which was frustrating on many different levels. Leaving the bed never occurred to the detective.

John’s mobile rang very early in the morning; he was needed at work so he rolled out from Sherlock’s arms and jumped in the shower, leaving a very stimulated consulting detective huddled beneath the duvet. “It’s not a full shift, just till the next on-call doctor is available, a few hours, we’ll have lunch alright?” called John on his way out the door.

“Alright, till lunch then. Text if you’re going to be later.” John’s affirmation was soon followed by the slam of the door and the clatter of John’s footsteps on the stairwell as he left 221 B. The second Sherlock heard the cab door slam he took himself in hand with some hastily procured lube, lay down a towel, and shamelessly rutted on top of the sheets where John had lain all night long. It smelled gloriously of John and Sherlock did his best to keep his face buried against the delectable odor until his whole body tensed and he came with a loud shout. Cleaning himself up with tissues that he dumped into the bedside bin Sherlock fell asleep with a smile on his face; finally able to rest now that John wasn’t there to keep teasing him awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are just good friends, I'm totally sure of it. This was NOT a date (was it?)


	3. Food for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well the not-date went pretty well and our tired detective has finally had a chance to relax (privately) and get some sleep.

Sherlock felt a gentle hand almost caressing his shoulder, and it roused him from deep slumber, “Hey, sleeping beauty, I’m starving. Wake up, you’re supposed to be my lunch-date.” John’s voice was full of smiles and Sherlock couldn’t help the return smile that spread across his face as his eyes fluttered open. He was still beneath the duvet, sprawled out, and feeling extremely rested.

“John.” rumbled Sherlock, his voice still sleep-rough, “What time is it?” The light in the bedroom was more subdued than it should be for this late in the morning and Sherlock realized John must have drawn the curtains to keep the bright out. Sherlock could smell the antiseptics from the clinic faintly clinging to John, and he could smell John’s good decent scent solidly beneath it. It made Sherlock feel both more relaxed and alert at the same time.

“Half-one, I texted but you didn’t answer. I thought you fell in the shower or something so I came home as soon as I could.” John was sitting on the edge of the bed near Sherlock who found it easy to curl around the doctor, and kept his eyes closed, letting his body wake. He felt very relaxed. John just leaned back like Sherlock was a big cushion and went on about his busy morning. When Sherlock finally stretched John smacked him on the hip, “Get up, I want to go eat.”

“I’ll just run through the shower. If I’m not back out in five minutes you have permission to come check to see if I’ve actually fallen.” John threw Sherlock a cheeky grin and Sherlock felt the urge to continue winding around John until the doctor was unable to escape his embrace, “Five minutes _after_ the shower starts.”

“Spoilsport.” said John who got up and left. Sherlock blushed. Was John flirting with him? It felt like flirting but no one had ever flirted with Sherlock like that. Normally it only happened when Sherlock was playing a role for a case, the lines cheesy and obvious but it couldn’t possibly be. John called from outside the room, chivying the detective along. “Hurry up Sherlock! I’m hungry!”

John and his appetites! “I’m going.” John was out front doing something so Sherlock grabbed his robe and went to wash up. He used the facilities quickly and showered perfunctorily, lingering a bit as the five minute mark approached, and blushed crimson when he heard John’s teasing voice right outside the door, “Still conscious.” called Sherlock.

“Spoilsport!” said John again and Sherlock’s cheeks reheated. _It almost sounded like John wanted to see him unclothed!_ For a dangerous moment Sherlock’s bits responded enthusiastically. He couldn’t let that happen, they were leaving the flat in just a few minutes so Sherlock turned the shower on as cold as it would go until he was gasping but erection free, then he toweled off quickly and pulled on his robe. After a second’s thought, Sherlock tugged the top of the very clingy robe open just a bit to reveal a few more inches of chest than he normally exposed. He had nothing else on and sauntered out of the shower toweling his hair off nonchalantly. Keeping his eyes forward but his ears perked Sherlock was rewarded with an almost inaudible intake of breath from John as the detective paced the few steps to his room.

Making lightning decisions Sherlock put on one of his tightest, thinnest shirts, and though he didn’t normally wear any, a pair of comfortably fitted grey boxer briefs that would hopefully keep his cock from rearing so obviously if the worst happened, and selected a pair of trousers that Sherlock knew complimented his behind. Grabbing a longish coat Sherlock slipped on a pair of his favorite leather shoes and went out to watch John’s reaction. It was heartening. John’s eyes flickered up and down Sherlock’s entire body with definite heat but his voice was nothing but friendly and warm when he spoke, “Ready then?”

“Lead the way.” said Sherlock, deliberately keeping his voice ever so slightly lower than normal. He was gratified again to witness a physical reaction in the soldier whose eyes darkened a tad as his tongue touched his lips for a brief moment. John turned his face away looking down.

At the last second John decided to change his shoes after spotting a stain, “Just great.” John had been at work in ER that morning. Sherlock could see John had acquired a smudge of blood from an incoming emergency patient, “These might have … _something_ ….on them.” He looked dismayed but then shrugged and leaned down to untie them, “I should have noticed earlier. Two seconds.”

Sherlock had no comment because John was bending over right in front of him, his wonderfully presented behind making naughty thoughts race through Sherlock’s suddenly very creative mind and birthed legions of baby ideas that all clamored for attention. _John was exactly the right height, if he so chose Sherlock could snug his hips right up into position to…_ Sherlock shook his head. _He had to force himself to walk casually toward the door to wait for John when what he really wanted to do was…_ “Ready?” John had stood up and was looking over at Sherlock with another cheeky grin.

The doctor had discovered the joy of food-trucks. As they wandered down the street John got Sherlock to use his mobile to track down several that were parked around London. John for some reason needed to crowd right up against Sherlock to look at the screen menus. Sherlock held himself still instead of grinding against John’s body the way his transport was demanding he do. The top of John’s head was near Sherlock’s mouth, he could lean in only an inch or two and press his lips to John’s hair. From Sherlock’s point of view all the dips and valleys that made up John’s body were brazenly tempting him. John’s arm was hanging by his side, if the doctor moved it just an inch or two as well he’d be cupping Sherlock’s behind. _There was an alley right there, what if Sherlock took John over to it and…_ “Look at the offerings! This is gourmet food, one-of-a-kind creations. Where’s the weirdest one parked? Let’s go there. You know Sherlock, there’s nothing better than finding something totally unique that you end up really loving.” John’s stomach rumbled, a clear signal that lunch was required.

Twenty minutes later they were choosing a series of samplers from a garishly decorated vehicle that was redolent with spicy smells that made both Sherlock and John salivate. There were portable tables set up on the street so John and Sherlock claimed a tightly-packed corner of one along with a group of other lunch-goers and laughed their way through a very unusual but tasty meal. There was no choice but to keep their hips and thighs mashed together as the maximum amount of people tried to share the limited dining area.

Sherlock sat at the edge with John next to him so John had a heavy-set businessman squeezed up on one side of him and the tall thin detective on the other. John tapped Sherlock’s thigh over and over again to stress points in their conversation with people all around them, John being a master of easy camaraderie. It wasn’t difficult for the old solider to get people to tell him about their food selections and begin introducing himself around. Soon the entire table was engaged with one another and Sherlock could indulge his other needs by allowing John to nearly worm his way under Sherlock’s arm to make room for the other man to use his cutlery without elbowing the doctor. John smelled as enticing as the food and Sherlock resisted the urge to kiss that delectable patch of skin behind John’s ear. _He wanted to taste John’s mouth after every single bite, to see if the flavors of the meal lingered or not_. Restraint was becoming a struggle again.

Sherlock ate everything John offered him as the doctor tasted one dish after another, “Oh my god Sherlock, try a bite of this!” and John would simply pop a spoonful of food into the detective’s willing mouth. Sherlock was completely incapable of denying to himself how much he enjoyed John doing so and could only pray he didn’t look as completely love-dazed as he was. John talked the whole meal. He chattered on about the flavors and the nutritive values of what they were consuming and Sherlock realized that John was feeding Sherlock twice as much food as John was consuming. He didn’t fight it. It was making John happy and the food was actually delicious.

John wanted to go for a walk after lunch. They didn’t have a case on and Sherlock hadn’t started any new experiments so he was agreeable to a long wander up and down the streets, simply going in whatever direction offered the least resistance until Sherlock discovered that hours had gone by and John was wanting to eat again. The entire day had elapsed, filled with interesting conversation and Sherlock had not been bored even for a second. In fact he’d made note of several places to revisit at a later date for further study. Well pleased with the day Sherlock found himself smiling down at his best friend, “Would you allow me the pleasure of taking you out for dinner Doctor Watson?”

“I’m never going to argue about increasing pleasure, I accept Mr. Holmes.” John looked very happy and Sherlock felt very warm inside. John was smiling and with a quick nod of his head he said, “Go on then, impress me.”

 _A challenge._  Sherlock stopped walking and looked John over slowly before smiling, “Alright I will.” Thinking swiftly Sherlock made a quick call before pulling John’s arm through his to hail a taxi. Giving an address to the driver Sherlock kept John’s arm, not that the doctor had tried to relieve him of it. They both sat in the back, wordless, and pressed next to each other, the very air nearly crackling with unspoken questions and intentions.

It wasn’t until they were seated in one of the hottest new restaurants in London at one of their very best tables speaking to the head chef that John finally turned to Sherlock, “Okay I’m impressed. Don’t tell me, someone owes you a favor?”

“Lots of people owe me favors and I thought you might enjoy their specialty. Reserve your judgement for now. We haven’t even eaten yet.” said Sherlock with a hungry smile that John returned with interest. Oh, he was _definitely_ flirting now and Sherlock had no idea what to do next so he just went with treating John like his best friend. John understood several words in various languages but this restaurant was owned by a small family of recent arrivals to the UK and their menu reflected that fact, “Would you like me to order?”

“Since the menu isn’t in English you’ll pretty much have to. I trust you Sherlock, go on, impress me again.” oh John. Sherlock’s smile was close to predatory now but John didn’t flinch. Glancing over everything Sherlock snapped out an order to their server. A small and intensely delicious meal preceded the main event, a truly decadent dessert made of four different types of chocolate. John’s love of chocolate almost superseded his love of tea. John was nearly moaning as he ate up the last bite of mousse and cake. “Impressed?”

“Oh yes. You win all the date points for this place.” _Date points? Was this really a date then?_ Sherlock hoped so but didn’t want to ruin anything by asking outright. John sometimes said things that didn’t exactly mean how they sounded.  Sounding vastly satisfied John said, “That was so good I’m going to let you take me home with you.”

Sherlock laughed and replied warmly, “Well aren’t I the luckiest man in London.” Sherlock paid the tab while John dealt with the tip again and Sherlock wheedled an extra bottle of wine from the maître d to take home. Slipping it into the pocket of his Belstaff, Sherlock once again very casually took John’s arm in his, and led him out to the street. John did not object and Sherlock felt amazingly happy with the simple joy he was experiencing. Like the night before they went back to Baker Street, changed into their pajamas and sat on the sofa together to share the wine and watch a movie. Sherlock had no idea what they were watching except that John kept giggling and elbowing Sherlock as the comedy unfolded, turning laughing eyes up at him and sitting closer than he normally did. Sherlock enjoyed every second.

They put a second movie on but John fell asleep half-way through. Sherlock didn’t wake him because John was slumped over, his head on Sherlock’s thighs and he was snoring softly. Sherlock cautiously carded his fingers through John’s short hair and admired his best friend for all the character he could see imprinted on the soldier’s body. John was strong but not overwhelming, he was fit but not aggressive about it, his skin was etched with wrinkles and scars, small dimples and a host of other tiny mars that Sherlock found incredibly fascinating. John’s years were showing and Sherlock admired the lines and silver his friend had earned. He indulged himself now, allowing his eyes to feast on the man in his lap. Sherlock cursed not turning off the movie which he’d never seen before because it literally ended with a bang that woke John up. He sat up blearily, “I’m going to bed.” he muttered and tottered off without another word.

Sherlock was very disappointed. He tidied everything away so John didn’t wake to a mess, shut off the telly and cleaned up the kitchen. John had been so comfortable next to him, so sweet and trusting as he slept. Sherlock had experienced a large sense of contentment while he watched over the smaller man. When there was nothing left to do Sherlock sighed and went to his room. He stopped in shock. _John was sleeping in his bed again; face down on the side of the bed he’d slept in the night before_. Happiness bloomed in Sherlock’s heart as he picked up John’s old robe that was on the floor and hung it over his own behind the door. He couldn’t stop smiling as he lay down beside John, the snoring soldier already deeply asleep.

Sherlock laid his head on his pillow and thought for a second, “I’m here John.” he whispered. John moved right over and cuddled up to Sherlock who pulled the smaller man gratefully into his arms for the night. This was what he wanted, what he craved, just closeness with John. Sherlock pressed a daring kiss to the top of John’s head, “Goodnight.” John’s only answer was to push his arm up over Sherlock’s chest, his small hand fisting Sherlock’s top again, right over his scar and Sherlock couldn’t help but smile again. He pressed one more kiss onto John’s hair and allowed himself to fall drift off, blissfully happy.

Like the first night John was all over Sherlock in his sleep and Sherlock allowed it. John managed to miss every part of Sherlock that ached to be touched, missing his nipples, his cock, his arse, but getting nearly everywhere else. John’s caresses were random and unexpected but delicious in their own way. Tonight though there were also murmured words, ones that Sherlock mostly missed but he caught one or two during his many moments of temporary wakefulness, “ _gorgeous_ ” occurred three separate times, and “ _say it_ ” for some reason cropped up several times as well, always in a pleading voice. Sherlock didn’t know what John was begging to be said while he dreamed but whatever it was John was determined to get it. Sherlock had never enjoyed a disturbed sleep so much especially when John’s hand finally found its way under Sherlock’s pajama top and stilled for the rest of the night, firmly planted once again over the round scar on Sherlock’s chest.

John’s hand was so warm. Sherlock’s attention focused on it and he felt odd, like he was covered head to toe in something that made him feel calm and steady. Sherlock could hear his own heart beating and could feel the pads of John’s fingers against his skin. John’s legs were slotted into his and the doctor seemed to be pressed as tightly against the detective as he could get. The warmth of John’s hand was the last thing Sherlock remembered as he fell asleep.

If at any time someone would like to make this cake for the author it would not be rejected.


	4. Anderson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While some things are new and different, other things between John and Sherlock are familiar.

The next morning it was Lestrade who called while both men were still dead asleep. His voice was filled with frustration and though it was first thing in the morning the DI sounded tired, “This is a seven at least.” he swore when Sherlock answered the call with less than enthusiasm. “Both of you get here now.”

John grumbled and pressed his face to Sherlock’s back since they had woken spooned together that way. Sherlock closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly as he felt John’s warm breath huff between his shoulder blades. He’d never suspected how much he would enjoy the feel of someone against his back. The sleep he’d gotten had been very restful. “I just want to sleep.” grouched the smaller man.

“You can stay if you wish John. I can call if there’s anything interesting.” offered Sherlock who increasingly liked how John felt against his thighs and buttocks. He resisted the urge to push back to feel John better. John yawned hugely into the fabric of Sherlock’s pajamas and the moist heat of it felt strangely good.

“If you think you’re going to go have fun without me you can think again Sherlock! I just need some tea and toast; I’ll be good to go.” John rolled out of bed, already stripping off his pajama top as he went upstairs to get dressed. All the air in Sherlock’s lungs woofed out again as he clearly observed the amazing musculature of the smaller man. John was _very_ well put together.

Sherlock dressed swiftly, keeping his appearance as neutral as possible as well as professional. If he needed to speak to witnesses today he didn’t want them distracted by his clothes. John was in the kitchen when he left his bedroom, dressed in practical trousers and a warm jumper, waiting for the kettle to boil and for his toast to pop. Sherlock was surprised when a piece of toast was put in front of him along with a jar of jam, “Eat. One slice won’t slow you down.”

Sherlock ate. _He was in no mood to argue with John, not after the last couple of marvelous days. He wasn’t going to ruin things by squabbling over a piece of toast that did make Sherlock feel more alert and focused. The jam was strawberry too, Sherlock’s favorite_. When they were ready to leave Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and rubbing a bit of crumb off of the front of John’s jumper, “Ready?”

“Always.” John was smiling at Sherlock, his eyes bright and as happy looking as Sherlock felt. John once again sat slightly closer to Sherlock on the taxi ride to the crime scene and paid the driver when they got there. John instantly shifted into _Captain Watson_ when they got on scene and saw the bodies. John watched over Sherlock with intensity, scanning passersby as well as the buildings around them as Sherlock took in clues. All the victims were young men, handsome and well-dressed. “Well?”

“Male escorts, likely working as a group, independent, look at their clothing, their hair. Shoes like that aren’t cheap, the products they used on their bodies can only be found at high-end salons.” Sherlock was examining the jewelry they all still wore, “Different artists for different pieces, nothing in common except the unusual value of each item. Why leave it behind?”

“Whores?” asked Anderson who looked over the bodies with a disdainful sniff, “Probably got caught by an angry husband or wife.”

“ _Escorts_ Anderson, not _prostitutes_. These men are dressed for a semi-formal event, perhaps a sociable evening out on the arm of someone of medium to high importance. They weren’t your garden variety evening hires, and they weren’t rent-boys, and it wouldn’t matter if they were. They were murdered and I am interested in finding out who did it.” Sherlock was dismissive of Anderson’s ill-views.

“You’d know all about rent-boys wouldn’t you Holmes? You look like a rental half the time.” Anderson was laughing at his jokes but John was not.

“Say that again.” demanded John angrily. “Tell me Anderson, did you just imply that you thought Sherlock was a rent-boy because you want to pay for some time or because you’re jealous of how he looks? Why don’t you stand back on the street with your fan club and stop trying to act like you have a brain in your head.” Anderson was several inches taller than John but that didn’t stop the small soldier from completely cowing the larger man.

Anderson was full of spite, “I’ve put in paperwork about you two. It’s not legal for the doctor to be here, hell, it’s not even legal for the _freak_ to be here. You’re the one who can wait on the street Watson. I’ll let you walk away now or I can happily call someone to arrest you.” Anderson looked gleeful but Sherlock strode over to stand shoulder to shoulder with his doctor. Anderson’s eyes were malicious, “You can’t bend the law in your favor this time Holmes. The doctor stays on the other side of the police-barricade from now on.”

Sherlock looked down at the forensic specialist, “Very well Anderson. John, let’s go.” Sherlock walked away without a backward glance, furious at Anderson’s constant attempts to stymie the detective’s efforts. They met Lestrade who was just returning on scene after speaking with his superiors. “Good day Lestrade, your subordinate has just informed us that our presence has been prohibited. Don’t call us again.”

“Wait, what? Hey, stop Sherlock. I was gone for three minutes, what the hell happened?” Donovan approached her boss with a smirk and handed him an official letter while John clenched his fists and obviously held back his outrage while a baffled Lestrade read it over. The silver-haired man was blazingly angry by the end, “What the utter fuck? _Who authorized this_? Wait. This is Anderson’s fucking uncle! Donovan, if I find you’ve had anything to do with this piece of _shit_ order I am going to transfer you to garbage detail at the city dump!” The glee melted off the tall woman’s face, and Lestrade turned to John and Sherlock with an anxious look, “Guys, I’m sorry for this. Anderson went over my head. It’s legal for now but I’ll sort it out, I swear. Please, you know we need you on this.”

“Apologies to the families of the victims Lestrade, John is not legally allowed to be within two meters of the police barricades, and I do not work without him, not any longer. It seems Anderson has finally won. After all, the last several years of free service and how many solved cases hasn’t been enough to impress the upper echelons of Scotland Yard. John and I will continue to work with our other clients, all of whom _pay_ for our services.” _Sherlock felt badly for the position he was putting Lestrade in but it wasn’t like there was a choice. Lestrade had helped Sherlock become the man he was today, he wasn’t ungrateful. Sherlock could continue working but he’d have to work directly with Anderson and John would be left out in the cold. Sherlock couldn’t deal with that. There was no question of even tolerating the notion. He needed John, for everything_.

They caught a taxi back to 221 B. John was upset the entire ride and would not speak, sitting far from Sherlock and staring out the window. When they got home John just went inside and left Sherlock to pay. The detective followed the doctor up the stairs, “I’m sorry Sherlock.” said John. He was standing in the living room, staring at their cold fireplace, “You could still work with them.”

John was tense and closed off, his fists curled in frustration. Sherlock never enjoyed seeing John look this way and he kept his voice firm when he instantly said, “No I could not John. I will not work without you. I want you with me, always.” _Always John,_ _always._  Sherlock willed John to understand.

“Those boys were murdered. Someone needs to be brought to justice, you have to find them.” insisted John, looking forlornly at Sherlock, “You can’t let Anderson’s incompetence allow the killer or killers get away, not because of me. Go back Sherlock.”

“A few hours won’t make a difference. We’ve already looked at the scene. Give Lestrade some time to try and sort this out. I don’t want to work without you John, I don’t! You are integral to my process, I need you.” Sherlock didn’t care how much he was revealing. _John had the most awful expression on his face. The doctor was feeling useless; as if he were a hindrance and that would dig deeply at his sense of self-worth._ Sherlock could not accept that. “Anderson’s envy of you has grown to ridiculous proportions. He recognizes your skills are far above his and he is jealous of them. John, you know you have provided the key to the solutions for nearly every case we’ve worked on since we’ve met. I cannot solve this without you. It cannot be done.”

John’s cheeks took on the most charming shade of pink. He knew Sherlock wasn’t exactly puffing him up because John’s normally frustrated comments had indeed trigger epiphany after epiphany for the consulting detective, there was no denying that. He was flattered and trying not to show it. “John, we will be patient together. Lestrade will call soon enough for both of us.”

Sherlock approached John gingerly, not sure if his next actions were appropriate but resolved to do it anyway. Stepping close to the shorter man Sherlock carefully embraced John, tugging his unresisting body close for a hug which John returned easily. The experience was very strange because it didn’t feel odd at all, John fit easily against his torso, warm and sturdy. Sherlock had not initiated an embrace with someone since he had been a very small child. Sherlock closed his eyes and committed every instant to memory. The sensation of simply holding John deliberately was a highly enjoyable one, an intimacy Sherlock had not offered another person willingly before this. They held each other for a long time before John raised his head from Sherlock’s shoulder where he’d been resting it, “Tea?”

“Sounds lovely.” agreed Sherlock. He let John go and watched as he walked to the kitchen. _Sherlock knew that he was head-over-heels dizzily-in-love with John Watson. The Work had always been of paramount importance to Sherlock but he’d turned his back on a fascinating case without a qualm. John came first, far in front of mere cases. Cases were a diversion but John, John was Sherlock’s life_.

Sherlock had to sit. He was in a state of shock as understanding filled him. _He’d had tenuous thoughts about this before, nebulous ideas but suddenly realization shone on Sherlock’s mind like a blazing light. He loved John, completely. Now that he understood what he was feeling Sherlock realized that he had loved John for years now, since the very beginning. How had he not realized this before now? This was why he couldn’t control his physical responses to the good doctor, Sherlock’s transport was responding to his unrecognized emotions. He wanted John because he loved him. It was so obvious now_. Sherlock went to the kitchen, “John would you like to come hire an escort with me?”

John turned away from the stove where he was watching the tea-kettle heat. He was frowning, “What? Why do you need to hire an escort?” John’s eyes were hard and his lips were pressed into a flat line.

“ _I_ don’t but there are only a handful of services in London that hire out that caliber of escorts, they’ll be missing that many employees. What do you say to a little free-lance work?” _Anderson wasn’t going to keep Sherlock from solving anything, and he certainly wasn’t going to keep Sherlock from his John_.

John’s smile was instant and genuine, “Yeah? I suppose a little genteel company wouldn’t go amiss. What’s our cover?” _Good old John, he trusted that Sherlock had a plan and he did_.

“My brother is getting on in years; he needs to find a date for an upcoming social event. I’m being a good sport and with the help of my dear husband we’re hiring someone for the poor sot.”

“Husband? I told you I’m not that easy Sherlock.” John was grinning hugely and Sherlock felt a frisson of surprise when he saw that John wasn’t interested in objecting, he was teasing.

“Oh, but we have to be married or it would look odd John, come on, let’s go get hitched. We have a case to solve.” John’s cheeks flushed, “I know somewhere we can get rings.”

John turned off the kettle, and allowed himself to be drawn out of the flat where Sherlock took him to a jeweler who owed him a favor and let them borrow two plain gold bands to wear for the case, “I now pronounce you Mr. Sherlock Watson.” joked John as he slid the ring onto Sherlock’s finger.

“Can I call you _John Holmes_ then?” asked Sherlock with a raised eyebrow. John flushed deep red, “I remember that video your sister sent you the first year.” The actor John Holmes had quite the film career. John had called Harry right up and demanded to know what she had been playing at for sending it to him. Harry insisted it was just a joke because of their combined names.

“I don’t think I’ve got the right qualifications to be known as John Holmes.” said John with a fierce blush and he wouldn’t look at Sherlock. Suddenly John seemed flustered and unsure.

“I’d be very put out if you did.” said Sherlock honestly. John Holmes was a rather well known porn star, “Your current reputation is daunting already, being known as John Watson is fearsome enough.”

 _Three Continents Watson._  Sherlock couldn’t even claim one continent, or even an island, not even a grotty corner of London. John had sown his wild oats far and wide and Sherlock was untouched.

“Some of those stories are highly exaggerated. I wouldn’t pay attention to the boys at the VA.” said John quickly, “Besides, random shags in the army don’t exactly call for finesse, I don’t think I have the skill-set necessary to make a career out of it, even if I could.”

“I’m sure you’re talented enough.” said Sherlock softly. He wanted to find out how talented. He knew nothing at all in comparison; he wanted to learn everything John knew about the matter. John blushed again and Sherlock found it charming. He hailed a taxi and took them to the first business on their list. When they walked into the reception area of Sherlock slid his arm over John’s shoulder and John leaned easily into Sherlock as they approached the woman behind the counter. Their story was accepted and enabled them to simply talk to the proprietor without all the flirting that normally happened to excite the customer. One question at a time Sherlock determined that this wasn’t the right place. Promising to call back they left and went to the next place.

This time John held Sherlock’s hand and kept holding it while Sherlock talked to the young man who tried to interest them. The young man kept smiling flirtatiously at Sherlock. John scowled, pushing boldly in between them, possessively shielding Sherlock with his own body. Sherlock put his hand on John’s shoulder and made a show of pecking John on the head with his lips. John’s hand found his again, and Sherlock continued his queries to the now professionally polite young man. They moved on to the next place.

There were five businesses in all and each time they entered a new one John’s role as Sherlock’s husband was demonstrated with increasing fervor until John was almost waving his wedding ring in the last proprietor’s face, “For the last time, it’s not for us, we’re fine. We need someone for my brother-in-law. He’s never going to find the time to get someone on his own and we can’t have him showing up alone. Do you or do you not have someone we can work with who meets our specifications?”

All the young murdered men had the same general appearance, light of hair, dusky of skin, and expensively accoutered. This business was stationed right next to a very upscale salon as well as near several high-end jewelry stores. Sherlock squeezed John’s fingers, they’d found the right place. “Darling, it’s alright. We can hire someone for my brother here. It doesn’t really matter who, they’ll need to be able to bear his company all evening. We should pay twice.”

The proprietor laughed nervously and denied any such need, “Our escorts are very professional, we cater to all sorts of clientele. I’m sure it will not be a problem even if we’re currently short-staffed.” Sherlock and John laughed with her and paid, giving Mycroft’s address for the following evening when the civil servant was expected to meet with several dignitaries.

They left the building hand-in-hand, “What did you notice John?” John didn’t even try to remove his hand from Sherlock’s. If anything the smaller man’s fingers wove tighter together with the detective’s, his thumb tapping Sherlock’s hand thoughtfully.

“She’s afraid. Perhaps the business is being threatened? Rivals maybe? The other businesses looked like they were doing fine but who knows. It’s not a safe industry to be in, too many possibilities of crossing the wrong sorts of people. It would be easy to stumble into a blackmail situation or even have one of their employees accidentally learn something sensitive about a client.

“We need more data.” said Sherlock firmly, “What are you doing later tonight?”

“Breaking into an escort agency with my husband?” suggested John with that bright-eyed grin that Sherlock had come to enjoy so very much.

Sherlock grinned broadly. “Indeed.” They went back to Baker Street and got take-away while Sherlock did some online research. John puttered around doing all the little chores he seemed to feel needed doing and late in the evening both of them slipped off into the night to begin searching for clues. It was a fun night. They made their way from one agency to the next, ghosting their way to back offices so Sherlock could hack into computer files while John went through the hard-copies. It was nearly dawn by the time they made it back to their flat, a USB drive filled with information. John was falling asleep on his feet but he refused to let Sherlock work on his own, insisting on trying to remain awake, “John there’s nothing for you to do for now. I need to correlate the data and begin cross-referencing.”

“I should be able to do something.” insisted the doctor. His eyes were drooping and he was having a hard time keeping them open. Sherlock could stay awake and alert for a couple more days but John needed to sleep, desperately. After some arguing back and forth it was decided that John would sleep in Sherlock’s bed again provided the detective sat next to him to work, that way if anything came up Sherlock would be able to wake John on the instant. The doctor wouldn’t close his eyes until Sherlock promised. Sherlock went to work, quickly engrossed in what he was doing but still occasionally spending the odd minute or two simply gazing at the man sleeping by his side.

Eventually Sherlock completed what he was able to do with the little they had. It was late in the morning and John was still hard asleep. Making sure the mobiles were fully charged Sherlock plugged in his laptop before setting it aside and climbing into bed to lie close to John. “I’m going to sleep now.” he whispered to John. John’s mouth quirked a little and Sherlock smiled before closing his eyes. He was just drifting away when he felt John snuggle up. Rolling to his side Sherlock wrapped John up in his arms and pushed his knees up behind the soldier’s to hold him tight, his hand pressed against John’s wonderfully warm and soft tummy. John sighed, his head resting easily on Sherlock’s arm as he continued to sleep, his back pressed firmly into Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock closed his eyes and was instantly gone.


	5. The Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rings are in place and their initial research has been done. Time to find some things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warning - this chapter mentions human-trafficking but mostly as a background bit of information and there's absolutely nothing graphic. Just FYI.

Only three hours later they were rudely awaken by someone knocking loudly on their front door. Sherlock was still holding John, his dreams rich with the scent of him but the soldier woke suddenly, rolling smoothly out of bed and into his robe and slippers in mere moments. Sherlock missed his warmth instantly and sighed at the premature end to their restful interlude. John sounded snappish when he answered the door, “What do you want Lestrade? We were sleeping.”

“I figured you went out last night, listen John, I’ve sorted it all out so whatever you’ve been working on…I don’t want to know but you’re both back on the case. Listen, there’s been another one, nearly identical, will you come?” Sherlock pulled his robe on and went out to speak to Lestrade himself.

“When?”

“Last night, same area, it’s not pretty.”

“Murder seldom is. Get dressed John, the game is on.” Sherlock went back to his room and listened to John climb up to his. He stood there for a moment and envisioned John undressing. _He would be precise about it, efficiently stripping off one layer at a time. Sherlock always enjoyed it when John removed his jumper. He like the way the doctor’s stomach was revealed, and thanks to last night Sherlock knew that he wanted more than ever to have more than just his hand against John’s belly._

Sherlock dressed swiftly, once again taking precautions against unintentional arousal. John was devastatingly attractive to the detective and Sherlock would be distracted by The Work and possibly even more susceptible to the doctor’s charms. He needed to take every care not to embarrass himself.

John knocked once on the door and came in before Sherlock answered. He was just buttoning his shirt and selecting a coat. John went to the bed and made it up quickly, grabbing his mobile and tucking Sherlock’s into his coat pocket, “Ready?”

“Let’s go.” they left his room together, John’s hand nearly on the small of Sherlock’s back as the smaller man seemed to escort the detective forward. Lestrade gave them a strange look, “I thought you were in a hurry?” prompted Sherlock and Lestrade led the way to the street. He knew Sherlock well and a taxi was waiting for them behind Greg’s panda. After making sure they had the address he drove away and left them to follow behind.

The scene was very similar to the first. The young women this time were laid out in a similar fashion, all of them now obviously employees of a different escort agency. These ones were all brunettes but like the first group each of them wore a piece of unusually expensive jewelry. John’s eyes darted everywhere the way he’d become accustomed to doing. Sherlock felt a stab of both pride and vindication as he witnessed John seeing as well as observing his environment, combining both his hard earned skills and the ones he’d learned from Sherlock. He left nothing to chance anymore, scouting all the windows he could see from his vantage point as well as taking the in the faces of anyone who seemed to be lingering, “Someone is being taught a lesson. We have to identify the bodies, find out for sure who they were working for. Why so many? Why the configuration? Have you verified how the first group died?”

“Poison, fast-acting, Dr. Hooper has some reports for you to look at already. I don’t know when that poor girl sleeps.” said Lestrade.

“Molly is a natural night-person, she prefers to work alone.” said Sherlock distantly. He was thinking of the few moments he’d spent at the first scene, mentally comparing it to this one.

“Why all boys the first time and all girls this time?” wondered John. “All of them are pretty young too. It’s like one of those gangster movies, the territory wars.” John and his low-budget films! Sherlock never paid attention to them but John did watch a lot. Still, the idea had a lot of merit.

“Find out where these people were from. Look closely at them, observe. They weren’t British for all they’re done up in the latest fashions. Look here and here,” Sherlock pointed to the upper arm of one of the young ladies. She had a delicate tattoo nearly hidden under the elegant sleeve of her party dress, “Cyrillic script. Either she was sentimental about her heritage or this young woman wasn’t born in the UK.”

“So what do you think then?” Lestrade and John were watching Sherlock who paced back and forth, the facts turning over in his head. _The young men were all generically handsome, classical in their appearance and it would be difficult to place them in a cultural context but that would be the point wouldn’t it? To have escorts on hand that could easily adapt to any background to make their date look good. The girls were the same. You could take any of these young ladies anywhere respectable and they would be a charming accessory on your arm. So why kill them? The businesses that hired them out dealt with the most prestigious company, out-of-town dignitaries, celebrities, and so forth all able to utilize their service with discretion. Their escorts would be highly skilled, hard to obtain, all of them valuable commoditie_ s.

“I think I have to go on a double-date with my brother. John, would you care to join me for a boring evening of talking to politicians and the idle rich?” Sherlock smiled over at John, his eyes excited. He had a lead.

“That sounds delightful Sherlock, I accept. Lestrade, send over the files from yesterday, Mrs. Hudson is at home. Sherlock, let’s go see Molly and read those reports, I’m thinking we have some questions to prepare.” Lestrade looked a bit stunned. John leaned over, “Mycroft is being escorted tonight. We need to chat with his partner.” the shock on Lestrade’s face subsided a bit as understanding replaced it but returned again when John also said, “Anyway, what bloke in their right mind would say no to chance to date _Sherlock Holmes_ , right Sherlock?”

John’s wink was flirtatious and his grin cheeky. Sherlock bit his lip bashfully and had to stride away so Lestrade couldn’t see the blush on his cheek. “Come along John.” he called and heard John’s warm chuckle and Lestrade’s softly muttered curses of astonishment. In the taxi John once again sat much closer to Sherlock but chattered on innocently about things they saw as the vehicle wound its way through London toward St. Bart’s. John paid for the ride and when they arrived at the morgue the doctor kept up his one-sided conversation even as he opened the door for Sherlock and let him enter first. Sherlock unaccountably blushed again.

Molly was all stammers and stares again, fumbling at the reports she’d prepared for Sherlock, and standing far too closely to the detective as she tried to tell him what she’d found. Sherlock went over each report with her one at a time and endured her lingering glances and constant nervous smiles. It had always made him uncomfortable to be confronted with her blatant attraction to him. Sherlock respected Molly for her professional capabilities, and he most certainly owed her a rather large favor, but had no further interest in the woman and had made a point of telling her so several times.

 _Sherlock wished she would take a step or two backward, she was really very close_. John normally stood near the wall to lean up and wait but instead of the wall John was suddenly leaning against the table, inserting himself between Sherlock and Molly smoothly before managing to block the detective entirely as he shooed the woman away so Sherlock could concentrate. The doctor joked with Molly and reminded her of various people they knew in common. She giggled and relaxed, eventually leaving them to their research of her own accord. Sherlock smiled as John routed the pathologist gently. _This was delightful!_

Molly had discovered several different compounds in the victim’s blood. She’d prepared samples for Sherlock to use so he gathered up everything he needed and took John back to Baker Street to work. John helped him set up in the kitchen, making them both a cup of tea as Sherlock began to sort out useful facts from the dross. John made himself a small meal and fussed until Sherlock ate a few bites of it which the detective did just to shut him up. He was concentrating on his research but John just made him open his mouth so he could pop the odd bite in now and then so it wasn’t too much of a disruption. Fresh tea appeared regularly but eventually Sherlock realized John wasn’t there anymore. He stopped working and went to search for his doctor.

John was in the bathroom shaving, “Our date is in less than an hour. Is that enough time?” Sherlock had forgotten. They needed to speak to Mycroft’s escort and Mycroft needed to know he was expecting a date. “I called your brother already. He wasn’t amused but he’ll still go through with it since we paid and everything.”

“I just need to shower quickly, I won’t be long. Wear a suit.” said Sherlock and John nodded and finished up swiftly, giving Sherlock privacy to prepare for the evening. He showered quickly and went to dress, selecting a well-cut suit and decadent tie. John came downstairs and whistled appreciatively at the door, “Stop it John.”

“Nope, I’ll be the envy of everyone tonight.” said the unrepentant doctor with a broad smile. He was wearing a plain black suit with a white shirt and narrow black tie. His shoes showed evidence of a hasty polish and Sherlock noted that John was wearing yet another pair of loudly colored socks. The detective had to smile in return.

“I do believe that will be my position, you clean up very nicely John.” _The doctor was very smart looking. His clothes suited him; he was dressed up but not excessively posh. He looked perfect, not stiff, if anything he looked a little bit sassy, exactly how John should look in a suit_. Sherlock’s heart beat a tiny bit faster as John held out his arm invitingly, “Let’s go John.” Sherlock took John’s offered arm and off they went.

When they arrived John gallantly helped Sherlock out of the taxi, genteelly escorted him to the entrance, let Sherlock go first, and then, like he had at the flat, kept his hand on Sherlock’s lower back to steer the taller man gently through the groups of people already in attendance. Sherlock used every trick he knew to keep himself from revealing to his brother the state of things but there was no hope of concealing it from the man. Sherlock watched Mycroft see right through the deception of the fake marriage and into the literal heart of the matter. He knew how Sherlock felt.

Mycroft looked stiff and disapproving as he presented them to his date for the evening, a thirty-ish young man who went by the name Roman. John was charming and easy-going, falling easily into conversation with everyone, his military standing of interest to many. Sherlock found himself standing close to John most of the evening, not exactly embracing the soldier but most certainly laying visual claim on the man, a claim that John seemed equally determined to display for Sherlock. Time and time again John would put his hand on Sherlock, sometimes on his arm, sometimes on his back, and for several blush inducing instances John even held his hand briefly. It was very distracting. Sherlock almost missed the clue he’d been waiting for, “St. Petersburg? Oh I haven’t been there since I was a child.” Roman’s voice was filled with longing as one of John’s many conversations triggered several reminisces.

Conversations naturally drew people away from them until there was an empty space around them so Sherlock pressed his advantage and softly asked, “How old were you when you were sold Roman?”

The young man froze in his tracks, his eyes frightened as his gaze locked onto the detective’s, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the slave trade Roman, the trade of which you are a part of, rather unwillingly I imagine. Everyone is talking about the murders, your peers I do believe. All of them from the east like you. Who owns you Roman?” Sherlock was sure he was on the right track, especially when Mycroft stopped pretending he wasn’t listening and began to watch the young man as closely as Sherlock and John.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” repeated Roman with even less assurance, “Even if I did I wouldn’t speak of it here.” his eyes darted around at the illustrious company they were keeping. There were more than a few escorts evident, “Perhaps if Mr. Holmes would like an early evening?”

Mycroft took the hint graciously and took Roman around, demonstrating increased interest in the handsome young man until they slipped away, carefully observed by the others. Sherlock and John remained for another hour, chatting and sipping wine until they felt enough time had passed. Catching a taxi they went to Mycroft’s office where Roman was sitting on a chair looking desultory. Sherlock looked at Mycroft, “What has he told you?”

“It’s a coup Sherlock, one crime family against two others. The murders were indeed a warning. They are liquidating valuable stock in order to reduce their rivals. The fact that ten young people are dead apparently is of no matter to those involved.” Mycroft was angry. He didn’t like disorder and someone was making a mess in his backyard. “The Yard is off this case. My people will take over from here.”

“I can help.” insisted Sherlock. Mycroft stopped tapping messages out on his laptop and looked hard at Sherlock, “I can.”

“You cannot. This is _international_ now and you are _compromised_ Sherlock. You cannot function safely, not with these people, not after everything. You and John have done what you can. Leave my people to it.” Sherlock was furious because Mycroft was right. _There were entire sections of less than savory people from the east that would do a lot to get their hands on Sherlock. The types of retribution they would exact from him would not likely leave him alive_. As much as he loathed the necessity Sherlock acceded to his brother and nodded tersely. Mycroft’s voice was almost apologetic when he softly said, “Thank you brother. Doctor Watson, if you would please escort Sherlock home? I believe he has some free time on his hands now.”

John wasn’t pleased. He looked pugnacious and ready to protest but Sherlock touched his hand gently, “John? Back to Baker Street.” and John deflated. The doctor nodded once and took Sherlock’s arm in his to lead him out to the town car Mycroft provided and home again. A small team showed up and collected up all the samples Sherlock had from Molly, taking Sherlock’s research with them. Sherlock stood there numbly and let them while John’s jaw was clenched, “It’s necessary John.”

“Why?” John was upset. The doctor stepped closer to Sherlock and for once the memories of what he had gone through weren’t overwhelming. John would understand, John knew.

“When I was gone, I troubled a lot of people. I got into trouble with a lot of people, the worst sort of people. Mycroft had to rescue me in the end. It was a close thing. I can’t go back there, not in any capacity.” _There were compromises to be made in order to keep John safe and Sherlock had made them_ , “The risk is too great. Mycroft must handle this. It’s out of our hands.” John could never be left to feel that this was not the two of them together.

If anything John looked more upset. “I’m ruining everything!” he exclaimed and Sherlock was confused.

“What in the world are you talking about John?” Sherlock wasn’t very happy with what was going on with the case but John looked absolutely miserable. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were bloodless.

“The MET almost won’t work with you because of me and you wouldn’t have been iced out of this investigation if you hadn’t had to fake dying to save my useless life! I’m holding you back Sherlock, I always have. Fuck, I’m sorry for this. I didn’t want this, not for you!” John looked anguished and it made Sherlock feel strangely upset and almost angry. _How could John possibly think such a dreadful thing?_

“John. Stop. Never say that. _I refuse to allow you to say that_. Your life is not _useless_. You were worth everything I had to do; you’re still worth everything I might need to do. Our problems with the Yard are no more than a continuation of Anderson’s incompetence and no negative reflection you at all.” It all fell together for Sherlock though; he could understand how John would allow himself to feel this way. _The soldier was sensitive about his perceived weaknesses, pushed through his pain time and time again so he would not be a deadweight._ John always did more than was necessary, always put others first, especially Sherlock who now found himself gripping his best friend’s hands anxiously in his, “You are not useless John. _You are the most important person in my world_.”

John looked stiff and unconvinced. He wouldn’t look at Sherlock and just gruffly said, “It’s late. I’m going to get some sleep.” John took himself upstairs while Sherlock watched. _His hip was obviously bothering him, Sherlock could see the stress already affecting his beloved doctor. John really believed he was the source of Sherlock’s problems which was so wrong because John was the cure_.

The words came out like an offering, “John? Would you sleep with me again?” John stopped half-way up. Sherlock thought he wouldn’t answer but John just nodded one time and continued up. Sherlock smiled faintly and got himself ready for bed. He wasn’t remotely tired but John needed to rest and Sherlock felt better knowing he would be able to at least see his best friend and make sure he got the sleep he needed. He wasn’t trying to overthink his impulse; Sherlock was for once just going with his instincts.

Sherlock was in bed waiting for John who crawled in and lay there silently, still clearly upset. Gently Sherlock tugged a not-exactly-reluctant John over until he was holding the soldier against him, not bothering to wait until John was asleep to assume their favorite position. Sherlock stroked John’s back until the man finally relaxed, letting his fingers drift up and down John’s spine soothingly, humming a wordless song low in his throat that seemed to lull the soldier enough for him to doze off. Sherlock kept his caresses going, soundlessly telling John he loved him with every brush of his hand. John’s arm went around Sherlock as soon as he fell asleep, his entire body pressed tight against Sherlock. _Emotion caught in Sherlock’s throat as he realized how very much John trusted him that he would lay his weakness bare for Sherlock to judge and criticize if he so chose and to accept the comfort Sherlock offered after_.

 _John was magnificent. He was brave and fearless; he never shied away when he felt it was his duty to step forward_. He was a miracle made flesh so Sherlock lay there for ages and loved his soldier with his whole heart. _John trusted Sherlock to watch over him while he slept, while he was the least able to defend himself and Sherlock’s throat was so tight that if he tried to speak he would not have been able to_. Sherlock had to take several deep breaths but before the detective finally fell asleep put his lips near John’s ear and he whispered, “You are perfect John Watson, never think otherwise.” Pressing a trembling kiss to John’s forehead Sherlock closed his eyes and let the night take him.


	6. Nothing On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well there's no case to work on and the boys have nothing to do. How should they fill the time?

The next morning was warm and relaxed. John made another big breakfast and told Sherlock to try and eat at least half so Sherlock gave it a good go. John praised him for even trying and Sherlock felt strangely warm when the doctor gently encouraged him to continue improving. While Sherlock straightened out his research supplies John did his daily chores, tidying their home and cleaning in all the approved areas, automatically leaving Sherlock’s test areas alone as agreed upon over years and months as friends. Sherlock thought about that as well, he was lucky in so many ways. _Even if nothing more blossomed between them John was still the best flatmate, the best assistant, the best bodyguard, the best doctor, the best friend a person could have_.

The more Sherlock thought of it the more embarrassed he became that it had taken him so incredibly long to understand how he felt about John, how could any person know John and _not_ fall in love with him? Suddenly Sherlock felt pity for all the women he’d chased off. _All they’d wanted was a little bit of John’s time and Sherlock had prevented each and every last one of them from getting more than a taste and he hadn’t even known why he’d done so_.

That afternoon they had to return their fake wedding rings. John seemed almost reluctant to part with his but joked gamely with the proprietor over how useful it had been. The doctor looked down at his hand for a long time before pulling the ring off slowly, “I guess I’m more used to wearing one than I realized.” John was moody afterward and seemed tired, even cranky for once and Sherlock tried to cheer him up with movies but even the inanity John normally chortled at didn’t produce a single giggle. They had nothing on, John’s next shift wouldn’t be for days, and both of them needed to be occupied, “Let’s go dancing.” said John after they’d spent a couple of hours pretending to do things in the flat.

“Dancing? Seriously John?” Sherlock did like to dance. He wasn’t very practiced at it currently since he’d done most of his dancing while incredibly high but it didn’t really matter. Sherlock could go dancing with John that would be fine, just fine.

“I need to burn off some of this nervous energy and I don’t want to go through the hassle of putting off invites. Let’s go dancing together; I liked that club with all the dance-floors in tiers.” Sherlock rolled his eyes; John had chosen a flagrantly gay bar to go dancing in. The last time they’d staked out a gay bar John looked like someone’s frumpy dad, a fact he clearly recalled and now John was the one rolling his eyes, “I’ll even let you pick my clothes this time.”

Sherlock looked John over. He was wearing his black and white jumper and a pair of old jeans. The jumper was nice but inappropriate for tonight but the jeans would work very well. Sherlock did have something in his collection of disguises that he hadn’t tried yet. John was shorter than Sherlock but there was no reason it wouldn’t fit, “Very well John but you get no say in what I select.” John just rolled his eyes and nodded impatiently. Sherlock went to his wardrobe and dug around several minutes until he located the item in question. It was simple enough that John didn’t protest about wearing it. In fact the soldier immediately stripped off his jumper and shirt right in front of Sherlock before examining the top for a minute and tugging it on.

John was now wearing a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged his body tight. It was light and breathable so John wouldn’t get overheated but also concealed much of his skin while simultaneously revealing everything about his shape. Sherlock made sure not a word escaped his lips when John tucked himself in, nothing he would attempt to say could possibly come out other than, “Let me lick that John.”

John’s hair was rumpled from changing his top but when his hands went up to smooth things down Sherlock shook his head slightly. With a bit of a devilish grin John dropped his hands and left his hair charmingly tousled. “You changing into something different?” asked John and his voice was incrementally deeper. Sherlock inhaled carefully and nodded again, pushing a slightly resistant John gently out of his bedroom.

It only took a minute to decide how he wanted to look for the night. Sherlock stripped off his day suit and pulled on a pair of soft black trousers and a top that was very similar to the one John was wearing except in white. The necklines were slightly different and Sherlock’s top was thin enough to almost be considered sheer. Another moment of thought brought Sherlock to his mirror where he quickly slicked back his curls, taming his mop entirely. Holding a light black jacket lightly in his hand Sherlock strolled out of his room to find John waiting for him. Sherlock enjoyed John’s slightly stunned expression very much, and the flush on the good doctor’s cheeks as Sherlock walked past him with deliberate grace, “Ready John?”

“Oh yeah.” said John, his eyes full of life and amusement. Sherlock couldn’t help smiling when John showed Sherlock his mobile and tucked it into the detective’s pocket, “Don’t lose that.”

It was the middle of the week and early in the evening but the club was already full of vibrantly dressed people who clearly enjoyed the loud and pounding music with obvious abandon. There were couples everywhere or mobs of singles. The light show was brilliant, filled with colors and patterns. John smiled around.  _Sherlock couldn’t stop staring and seeing how incredibly handsome John was, especially compared to the people around them. He was just so..._ “Drink?” shouted John and Sherlock nodded.

The crowd was thick and Sherlock felt his heart race when John just reached back and took Sherlock’s hand to lead him through the throng. The press at the bar was tight but John pushed right up to the edge and Sherlock shielded him from being crushed by bracing his hands on the edge on either side of the doctor, his front pressed to John’s back as John shouted an order to the bartender. Sherlock closed his eyes and stifled a groan when John patted his way blindly over Sherlock’s hip and cheek to get into Sherlock’s back pocket, “I went and left my fucking wallet in my coat! You’re getting everything tonight!” _Like Sherlock cared if he paid! With luck John would order frequently and grope Sherlock each and every time he fished out the detective’s wallet_.

Drinks obtained John took Sherlock’s hand one more time and led the detective to a patch of wall where they were somewhat safe from being trampled and finished their drinks without delay. Depositing the empty glasses on a passing server’s tray John took Sherlock’s hand one more time and led him to the dance floor. Flashing lights and heavy bass lines soon caught both of them in their spell and with ease Sherlock found himself dancing the night away with John.

John was incredible. He was completely at ease in his body, moving effortlessly and with obvious enjoyment. He seemed to know all the songs and transitioned easily from one to another. Sherlock was stilted at first, still not quite sure what to do with his arms and legs but followed John’s lead until both of them were laughing and smiling at one another as they danced in their own little patch of light surrounded by writhing masses of other people. The dance floor wasn’t massive and there were several places to choose from so John made them try as many as they could. Sherlock simply followed where his soldier led, dancing with carefree joy along with John who seemed to be filled with laughter and light, he was happy once again and Sherlock was delighted.

Drink breaks and bathroom breaks were the only disturbances in the fun. John declared Sherlock to be in possession of the smallest bladder he’d ever encountered when Sherlock needed to slip off to the gents again and again but would wait for the detective patiently each time. He’d always take Sherlock’s by the hand and dance him back to the floor to whatever song was playing. John didn’t care what came on as long as it had a good beat. He got Sherlock to shake his ass and shimmy his shoulders and both of them tried to learn steps from the people around them and it was just fun.

Sherlock didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable at all, not with John smiling up at him and being a little minx with his winks and lip-licking. His smiles were filled with devilish mirth and John’s eyes simply twinkled in the flickering club lights. John thought nothing of moving Sherlock where he wanted him, especially if they’d gotten nudged out of the position he’d chosen. It was very crowded but that just meant Sherlock and John’s bodies were forced to bump and grind against each other accidentally over and over again. Neither man complained and Sherlock was beginning to wonder which one of them was taking more advantage of this fact because John’s body seemed to collide with his with slightly more frequency than Sherlock was pushed into John’s. It didn’t matter, it didn’t really matter, because it was perfectly marvelous however it was happening. Sherlock dimly registered the other bodies around him but even without looking Sherlock could recognize how John felt against him.

When songs slowed down they’d go grab a drink and sway together in the crowd as they shouted comments to one another over the din, their faces tilted toward each other and kept close so they could hear. Whenever John was jostled too hard he’d throw out a steadying hand, pressed to Sherlock’s chest and one breathtaking time, clutching his hip. So many times Sherlock wanted to close the distance between them and just writhe with John under the pulsing lights, to fuse their bodies together somehow, and holding himself back became more difficult with every alcohol laden sip he took.

Sherlock came back from yet another pit stop to witness John being chatted up by a strong looking man with a heavy build and warm brown eyes. The stranger was leaned up against the wall and not hiding his interest in John one bit. John was smiling up at the unfamiliar person in the friendly way that he had but the second Sherlock’s frowning face came into view John detached himself from the wall, his whole face lighting up. John threw a comment over his shoulder as he walked away immediately, “Here’s who I’ve been waiting for. Have fun tonight mate.” John just left the very disappointed looking man standing where he was and danced Sherlock back onto the floor. “Bloody hell I got hit on twice this time!”

Sherlock didn’t know what to say because suddenly he was deducing the many men around them and all of them seemed to have their eyes on John. _His John! They were looking at HIS JOHN! Seventy percent of the males within eye-shot were giving John less-than-discrete looks, especially at his behind._ Sherlock cut his own body behind John to block their avaricious gazes and then realized everyone was now looking at his front. _Dammit! That was mouth-watering too!_ “How many people have tried to pull you this evening?” asked Sherlock, hoping he sounded casual and not insanely jealous as he tried to sprinkle enough scowls around to get the message across to the other men. It was hard to tell if he was successful because his voice was deep and growly now. _How could he keep everyone from looking at John? They shouldn’t be doing that; John wasn’t theirs to look at!_

“About twelve I think, two of them were more interested in you to be honest, but the rest, yeah, maybe it’s time to get out of here.” John took Sherlock’s hand once again and led him away. Sherlock couldn’t quite stop himself from glaring at the three or four individuals who kept admiring his soldier a little too openly, but at the same time he wanted to sneer because John was going home with _him_ and not them! _Never them!_

As soon as they got to the comparative quiet of the street John squeezed his hand to get Sherlock’s attention, “Call in an order before the restaurant closes, I want Chinese. We can pick up on our way by.” Sherlock did, making sure he got all of John’s favorite treats. It made for a rather large selection but by the time they got home Sherlock was hungry too and they fell on their meal like wolves.

Afterward they sipped the jasmine tea that came with their order and got their fortune cookies, “You’re supposed to use the words _in bed_ after whatever your fortune is.” stated John firmly. He cracked his cookie open and read his fortune, “Every exit is an entrance to new experiences….in bed. Sounds kinky, what’s yours?”

Sherlock’s mouth went a little dry at John’s fortune but he turned his eyes to the confection in his hand and unfurled the small message before clearing his throat and reading, “Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises….in bed.” _There were so many things Sherlock wanted to say that related to things being small and that being exactly what Sherlock wanted_. John frowned slightly at Sherlock’s fortune.

“Well, all I know is that my next exit is to the shower which I need desperately. I’m all sweaty from dancing and sticky from the sweet-and-sour chicken. I don’t know what’ll be new about that.” John seemed disgruntled.

“You can use my body wash, that’s new. I haven’t even opened it yet.” offered Sherlock with a smile and John gave him a thumbs up, “Don’t use all the hot, I want a shower too.” What would John do if Sherlock joined him under the spray? Sherlock could strip right here, follow John in and press their bodies tight and ….

“Fine! I’ll just be a few.” John walked off already stripping his borrowed shirt off and Sherlock shamelessly filled his eyes as John went up to his room to get his pajamas. With a sigh Sherlock put the left-overs away and considered beginning an experiment or two but decided to shower first. John didn’t take long as promised so Sherlock went to scrub away the sweat from the night and found that John had indeed taken him up on his body-wash offer because the cubicle now smelled enticingly of both John and Sherlock combined. It was heady.

Sherlock dried off and climbed into his own pajamas. Tonight had been marvelous. He hadn’t been bored once, not for days now. He ruminated on that as he brushed his teeth. John was an excellent diversion, it didn’t seem to matter what they were doing, as long as John was with Sherlock life wasn’t dreary. Sherlock also considered slipping up to John’s room and just creeping into bed with him but he had no reason to do so, and the size of John’s bed hadn’t changed a jot. It was still too small. With a sigh Sherlock returned to his room and stopped in the doorway once again.

John was nestled under Sherlock’s duvet, out cold and looking cozy. Sherlock wondered for only a second over what would have possessed John to sleep with him yet again but he was hardly going to complain. All thoughts of another experiment were lost as Sherlock nearly glided across the room on little pink clouds in order to crawl carefully into bed beside the soldier. He wondered if it would work again, “I’m going to sleep too John.” Right away John moved over and simply wrapped himself around Sherlock without a flicker of an eye, breathing deeply and evenly. John’s hand didn’t hesitate pushing up under Sherlock’s top and resting directly over his scar. Sherlock felt so deliciously content he just closed his eyes and savored the feeling he was experiencing. He was so content, so peaceful. The normal clamor in his mind had been absent for ages and Sherlock knew he had John to thank for it. The silence was soothing so Sherlock let himself drift away listening to John’s regular breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a dramatic increase in heat.


	7. Making Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wants so many things, how does he go about getting them?

For a wonder Sherlock slept hard through the night and woke alone in bed. John’s side was cool, he’d been up for a while then. Sherlock looked at the clock. _Unbelievable, he’d slept for nearly nine solid hours!_ Yawning Sherlock took in the smells of breakfast and coffee. Shuffling out he was greeted with a fond smile from John, “I made waffles. You’ve got that iron and before you get around to making something grotesque with it I wanted to get one meal out of it.”

“I haven’t secured appropriate samples yet to use on it yet. The iron is thankfully untouched. Everything smells amazing. Are those sausages?” Sherlock stood a bit closer to John than necessary and snagged a sausage. He pretended not to notice as John watched him insert the end, taking an appreciative bite, “Delicious, just perfect.” moaned Sherlock, only slightly theatrically. John’s face went the tiniest bit pink and he went back to cooking. _Oh yes, a blushing John was very, very delicious_. Sherlock decided to take a tiny risk and nearly nestled up to John’s back to purr in his ear, “Thank you for cooking breakfast John, shall I get you a cup?”

John said nothing but nodded so Sherlock slowly reached up into their cupboard and fetched down two coffee mugs. John continued cooking breakfast as if Sherlock weren’t standing so close they could feel the heat radiating off each other’s body. Sherlock also said nothing, merely stirring in milk and sugar to order, and sitting himself down at the table with the morning paper as if everything were like any other day. “Any good cases?” asked John who was finally plating up. Sherlock looked in the paper but could hardly make himself pay attention. It took a lot of effort not to watch John; Sherlock had chosen his favorite seat. With just a bit of shift of paper he had a clear view of the entire backside of one Captain John Hamish Watson, MD, and it was very, very distracting.

Luckily for Sherlock Molly sent a text. The morgue had received several bodies, all of whom had died of poisoning but all of which had been found in radically different locations and at different times. Of course he was interested but first, breakfast. As intriguing as the corpses sounded Sherlock doubted they’d be more stimulating than watching John Watson’s mouth sticky not only with butter, but syrup, and because John was very thorough when he made waffles, whipped cream as well. Sherlock texted back swiftly, promising to be there in a while. “We’ll head down to St. Bart’s after.” said Sherlock with an appreciative smile for breakfast that _accidentally_ also swept over John, “If you’re not busy.”

“How could I resist an offer to stand around in a morgue, it’s always the most interesting time.” With anyone else that entire statement would have been laden with sarcasm and irritation but from John it was sincere, “Remember that time you caught those people making fake designer handbags because they’d indelibly stained themselves on that one type of dye? That was amazing, just amazing. I wonder what you’ll learn today.” John just went on about other things Sherlock had done that had amazed him and Sherlock found he was almost blushing with the combination of flattery and the sight of John’s beautiful mouth opening and closing around his food. He was a neat and quick eater, not rude, but still managing to keep up a one-sided conversation between bites. Even with interrupting himself with talk John managed to finish his entire meal before Sherlock got even half-way through his portion. John eyed Sherlock’s plate with narrowed eyes, “If you finish that I’ll let you pick what we do tonight. Anything you want, cases not included.”

An open-ended promise was not one to be wasted so Sherlock set to clearing his plate with determination while John cleaned up. By the time the dishes were nearly done Sherlock had conquered every crumb and was almost uncomfortably full. John smiled approvingly and took the empty dish away for washing before they got themselves ready to leave, “After you.” offered Sherlock, opening the door for John. He got a wink on the way by and John held the street door open for Sherlock, both their eyes almost twinkling with enjoyment.

Molly had everything ready for Sherlock to go over so John manned Sherlock’s laptop and his mobile while Sherlock gathered information about the bodies and made slide samples to take back to 221 B for examination. John logged everything carefully, slowly tapping in the information in his careful way. John was actually not a slow typist when he wasn’t self-editing. When Sherlock dictated out loud John managed to catch everything he said in point form if Sherlock was going very fast, and verbatim if Sherlock was mulling things over.

Before Sherlock knew it Molly’s shift was over and a less welcoming pathologist would be attending soon. “Time to go.” stated John who closed up the laptop as Sherlock gathered his samples together. John’s hands brushed past his several times as they collected everything together and Sherlock wondered if John could notice how the hairs on Sherlock’s arms were standing up as if electrified.

Sherlock packed the last of the results of their combined efforts up into a case so John took the laptop and bid Molly farewell. Sherlock’s mind was whirling with questions about the toxins he’d encountered. _One or two were vaguely familiar, he was sure he had a report about at least one of them_. He closed his eyes and thought about what he knew. He felt a tug on his arm at one point and hands on his hips urging him forward at another point but he was lost in thought. Finally it came to him and he almost smacked his head with the obviousness of it. _Flowers!_

 _Many people didn’t realize that half the flowers gracing yards and planters were often quite toxic._ Sherlock considered the rest of the evidence; all the people had been found in different location. They’d all died of poisoning by an as-yet unidentified toxin or more likely toxins. _Accidental poisonings happened all the time but the sheer volume of incidents was unusual. That there had been so many similar deaths on the same day was highly suspicious but so far no one could link the bodies together_. Sherlock sat up with a bit of surprise. He was at the flat. It was late at night and there was a plate of food in front of him. He was sitting alone in the front room with a blanket around his shoulders and no John. Case forgotten Sherlock rose and went directly to his bedroom.

John was once again sleeping in Sherlock’s bed and the sight of it made Sherlock feel very warm inside. The good doctor was snuggled into what had become his pillow, almost completely face down and his hand buried under his chin. He looked peaceful and relaxed so Sherlock watched him for a long time and felt tranquil. He didn’t know what had changed between them, or what John was doing now but Sherlock was strangely reluctant to question it. This was better. He expected nothing from John so each and every new thing that happened between them was a welcome gift. Sherlock pulled himself away for a moment. He wasn’t hungry so he put the plate of food back in the fridge, picked up his laptop and power cable, and returned to his bedroom. Moving quietly he set himself up to work in bed and began reading online.

Sherlock woke briefly when he felt his laptop being lifted off his legs. John’s voice was soft and tender as he whispered, “Shh, go back to sleep. I just don’t want you to drop this.” Sherlock nodded and kept his eyes closed. He could feel the bed shift a bit and then John was back, now pressing himself up against Sherlock’s back. “Sleep.” he urged. Sherlock slept.

Sherlock eventually rose to awareness sometime later. He could still feel John against his back, his deep even breaths marking his slumber. Sherlock was so relaxed, he didn’t want to move. John’s leg was between his, Sherlock was nearly lying on his stomach and John’s head was on his shoulder blade. As Sherlock woke slowly he realized John’s hips were tight against his bum and that there was something very firm poking the detective and it was getting bigger. Sherlock woke completely now and had to force himself to remain absolutely still. His eyes were wide and staring straight ahead blindly as he felt John grow slowly harder, his cock now resting firmly between Sherlock’s cheeks as the doctor lay otherwise limp and motionless against him. John had developed a morning erection and for the first time in his life Sherlock was directly experiencing another person’s physical arousal. His own cock responded with almost frightening immediacy and Sherlock _ached_ for John.

John’s breathing was changing. He was waking up. Sherlock realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to exhale. John stretched, his body arching just a bit but it was enough to unintentionally drive his cock directly forward causing it to graze directly over Sherlock’s anus. The sensation was so intense that Sherlock couldn’t stop himself. He bolted from the bed and locked himself in the bathroom and went into the shower. Concentrating on keeping the noise down to breathy puffs for air Sherlock stroked himself. His body was out of control! _How could he feel this level of urgency so quickly?_ Sherlock’s eyes were shut and he allowed his free hand to play over his backside. He thought of how that momentary contact had felt, so different than when Sherlock touched himself, as if John had triggered all the nerves in that region. _It had felt…good_. Biting his lip and still stroking fast Sherlock brushed the tips of his fingers over his opening. His back arched and with that fleeting touch Sherlock came, his orgasm sharp and intense. The relief was momentary. His hands were shaking as he washed up afterward and his thighs felt weak. He pulled on his old pajamas after he dried off and went out to see if he’d woken John.

He had, “I am going to burst.” John pushed his way into the bathroom and firmly locked the door, “Put the kettle on.” he called. Sherlock retreated to the safety of the kitchen. John came out after a quick shower of his own, wearing his terry-cloth robe and swiping a towel at his damp hair, “That was fun the other night. We should go dancing more often.”

“It was very agreeable John.” John made breakfast while Sherlock continued working on his research. John cut Sherlock’s toast into quarters and Sherlock found it easy to eat a decent bite in between typing. He was mulling over how to ask John out on a proper date. He’d squandered his evening last night and for the first time ever he regretted getting lost in his mind palace after spending the day at the morgue. Sherlock looked up at John and John looked right back, “John would you like to go out with me?”

Sherlock froze in place when his mouth stopped talking and he hadn’t asked John to go anywhere specific. John went back to eating his breakfast but before he bit his toast he said, “Yeah.” the soldier continued with his meal as Sherlock’s heart hammered in his chest. _Did that mean they were dating now or…_ “You didn’t get a chance to take me up yesterday. I said cases didn’t count so, what do you want to do tonight?”

 _Oh, still just friends_. Sherlock rallied, “If you’re interested there’s a flower show today. It’s featuring some curious blooms, some of which have been specially shipped here from the Americas, both north and south.”

John sat back and looked at Sherlock skeptically, “A flower show. Seriously? You want to go look at flowers.”

“Well, not just any flower. There’s one in particular.” Sherlock smiled at John who was catching on, “Yes John, toxic blossoms. So?”

“Mr. Holmes, I do believe I will accept your proposition. It’s a date.” Sherlock grinned back at John who tucked into his breakfast with fervor now. _That was the third time John said it was a date. Maybe it was wishful thinking but Sherlock rather liked the idea of John being his partner for more than just work_. After the doctor washed up he asked, “What time do we go?”

“The show begins this afternoon.”

“Right, I need to get the shopping in, I’ll meet you back here for an early lunch.” John walked past Sherlock but also dropped his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, rubbing it for half a second before grabbing his coat and leaving Sherlock alone. Sherlock sat for nearly five minutes in one spot just being happy that John was willing to touch him so familiarly. No one patted Sherlock or in any way handled him unless it could be avoided and Sherlock normally preferred that. When he realized how much time had gone by Sherlock got up and got his day organized. He checked several more sources before dressing himself to go out for the day.

He was developing a cover story and was beginning to wonder where the doctor had gotten himself to when John arrived back home with his arms loaded with supplies. John went right into the kitchen after saying hello but came out several minutes later and handed Sherlock a small box. Sherlock opened it up. There was a pair of plain silver rings inside. John’s cheeks were a little flushed and he looked a tiny bit reluctant to speak but he made himself explain to Sherlock, “It’s a good disguise. People are more open to a married couple than they are to a pair of blokes.”

Sherlock’s rational mind was completely on vacation when it came to John and in no way could Sherlock manifest an objection to the pretense of being married to John. Sherlock made not one indication of discontent, why would he? It was a highly agreeable situation, now Sherlock could spend the entire day displaying husbandly affection, “I concur. Silver suits us better, I think.”

“Actually they’re steel. There’s a trick to these too.” John was biting his lip. “I just got them at the street market from this fellow who makes stuff like this as a hobby. I thought it was clever and…well…look.” John took the ring clearly meant for Sherlock by its size and held it in his palm. The scribe work inside was delicate but when the doctor twisted the ring a small metal piece popped out and landed neatly in his hand. “Lock pick.” he said, holding the bent piece of serrated metal up. “You know, we always need one.”

“John, that’s absolutely brilliant!” Sherlock was entirely entranced, not only with the continued ruse about their marriage but the fact that the ring epitomized John. It seemed so simple, so plain but hidden within were secret talents that would be oh so useful and would never expected by their foes. “This is exactly the sort of wedding ring I would wish for John, thank you.” John was holding his hand and sliding the reassembled ring on his finger once again and the doctor looked very pleased when Sherlock returned the favor with a wink and the almost offhandedly spoken words, “With this ring I thee wed.” John wasn’t smiling openly but he made them lunch with a very chipper attitude while Sherlock played with his wedding ring, practicing extracting the lock-pick smoothly and surreptitiously.

Sherlock ate every scrap of the meal given to him without arguing, and even asked for a second cup of tea which was furnished with a warm smile. John was saying nothing with words but his looks shouted out his approval and appreciation of Sherlock’s blatant appreciation of his gift. A quick clean up led to both men getting redressed for their afternoon out. John merely changed his into a rich blue collarless top and tugged on a plain brown coat over it, John glanced over at Sherlock and deliberately ruffled his hair. Sherlock had to force himself from biting his lip and making strange sounds because John looked absolutely scrumptious and Sherlock just wanted to eat him up. The doctor eyed Sherlock’s clothes, “You look so casual, relaxed almost.”

Sherlock glanced down. He was wearing a light rose colored top and had shrugged a pale cream coat over it, slicked back his hair and donned a Trilby hat that came with a pair of dark glasses, “It’s my disguise.” Did he look odd? He looked himself over. _He should fit into the flower-appreciation crowd with ease in this. His pants were a soft gray and not ostentatious. Even his shoes were good study leather footwear, nothing fancy_.

John was smiling, “It’s a great one. I like it. Come on _husband_ , we’ve got flowers to look at.” Sherlock’s heart thumped hard twice when John called him husband and thrilled again when John took Sherlock’s hand and led him out to the street where the detective flagged down a taxi and took the doctor to the event. “Look at all the people!” the doctor was amazed.

It was teeming with viewers! People were taking pictures and speaking in hushed voices while proud growers stood near their displays and bragged about the qualities of their various specimens. There were all sorts of events happening include several craft displays where attendees were learning to dry flowers or to make teas, paints, and all manner of other things. John was actually very interested after a short while and Sherlock had no trouble standing back and letting the doctor to perform his personal magic. While Sherlock watched proudly John became friends with absolutely everyone they met. He was so good at being nice; no one could resist John’s sincere flattery and charm. He introduced the detective to all sorts of people he befriended, “My husband, Sherlock.” he’d say every time with a huge proud smile.

They were listening to a guest lecturer, “Please stay behind the velvet rope, we don’t want anyone accidentally touching the specimen. It’s quite poisonous.” John and Sherlock had chatted around pleasantly, and were now standing with a group of mostly elderly couples mixed with sprinklings of younger people. They were looking at Oleander, “It’s very popular as a bedding plant if you know how to handle it, there are flower farms that do nothing else but grow this dangerous beauty for sale. Quite remarkable.”

“Are there any in England?” asked Sherlock and the speaker nodded eagerly, explaining to everyone how the sample they were viewing had been grown right there in the English countryside. Sherlock put his arm over John’s shoulder and led him away, “John, let’s go on a honeymoon, Sussex, what do you think?”

John slid his arm around Sherlock’s waist and held him a bit tighter. Sherlock kept himself walking steadily but it was a struggle. “Let me guess, we’re going to go look at more flowers?”

“Indeed John, indeed. Come along. We have to pack.” On the ride home Sherlock used his mobile to make travel arrangements, “We can be there tonight if we hurry. I’ve already booked a room.” John questioned nothing, he simply went to his room and packed up a suitcase while Sherlock retreated to his room and did the same. After telling Mrs. Hudson they were leaving town for a case they caught a taxi and made it to the station just in time to catch the next train to their destination. John calmly enjoyed the ride while Sherlock paced up and down the cars, entertaining himself by deducing everyone but keeping from annoying John by doing it silently.

“We’re going out for dinner the second we check in.” announced John, “Someplace fast, like a pub or something.” The doctor was looking irritable and Sherlock realized he should have let John have a meal before they left. He kept forgetting John liked to eat with frequency and lunch had been a long time ago.

“Certainly John, we’ll just drop off our cases and find someplace.” John smiled up at Sherlock, all his irritation wiped away. Sherlock sat beside the doctor and John reached over to pat his knee quickly before going back to watching the countryside slide by. Sherlock considered for a second and decided they _were_ pretending to be married so he reached over and took John’s hand in his, not looking at the doctor, but simply holding his hand as if he did so all the time. John said nothing but twined his fingers with Sherlock’s and continued to look out the window. Sherlock felt warm inside again and suddenly he wasn’t fretful or agitated about being on the train. He sat peacefully beside John and enjoyed the rest of the trip.

John kept holding his hand. He helped Sherlock off the train and took his hand. He got the suitcases into the taxi and held Sherlock’s hand on the ride to their hotel. He held Sherlock’s hand in the elevator ride up to their floor, and kept holding it until he needed to unlock their door, allowing Sherlock to go in first before shutting it tight behind him. They checked the room out quickly and found it adequate, neither man saying a word about the fact that there was only one bed. As promised they were soon on their way back out the door again and into the reception area to speak with the matronly woman behind the counter, “Oh you’re in luck, there’s a lovely little place right next door, does marvelous things for the menu. They serve the workers around here so they’re quick too. It’s a pub, can’t miss it, left out the door.”

John took Sherlock by the hand again and they set off. As promised the business was right next door and Sherlock saw that John felt instantly at home in the dim long room that had heavy beams in the ceiling and an old set of bar-taps that looked like they’d been in place for a century. John went right up to the counter and ordered the first two things listed on the chalk-board menu, “Grab a table gents, we’ll bring that right out.” said the tall lad behind the service area. He looked barely old enough to work there but he was smiling and serving drinks like an old pro.

Another server came up and offered them the special for the night which was a tray of samples from the local breweries. The glasses were small but plentiful and Sherlock enjoyed discussing the subtle differences with John. They called for a second sample tray when their food arrived, and after their meal was concluded, a third. “Careful gents, some of those will sneak up on you.” winked the young man and John rolled his eyes. Sherlock was quite tipsy already and decided more wasn’t a good idea. Tugging John’s sleeve and giving him an imploring look Sherlock got John to help him back to their room, both men swaying slightly as they walked and requiring each other’s support to make it.

John’s hand swept lazily up and down Sherlock’s back as they made their way. It left the detective feeling pleasantly warm, “I like it when you touch me.” declared Sherlock. Was that an appropriate thing to say? It was too late now, he’d said it.

“I really like touching you, so that’s good.” John’s hand became a little more adventurous, petting and pressing occasionally, and Sherlock almost regretted their arrival at their hotel room because John took his hand away. Like always the doctor allowed Sherlock to enter first. Sherlock wanted John to touch him more but didn’t know how to go about asking. He realized that getting John to touch him might not be a problem because of something Sherlock had arranged in advance.

There was still just one place to sleep in the room and it was bedtime.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally made this up. I don’t know about who grows what in England, or if there are micro-breweries in Sussex. I faked it all. Everyone should realize by now I live in a glorious fantasyland in my head.


	8. Seeking Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are faking being married again but it's for a case so that's alright. They've gone out of town to check out a lead and have ended up having a rather lovely time.

It was silent after the door shut. John didn’t say anything more and his hand was nowhere near Sherlock. Instead they took turns washing up in the small en suite. Sherlock was so nervous. He brushed his teeth with extra care and fussed about until he couldn’t delay any longer. After dressing in their pajamas John and Sherlock poured themselves into the much smaller than they were used to bed. The tension between them was high but not unpleasant, but more the sharpness of anticipation rather than discomfort. After John clicked off the lamp on his side of the bed the room was nearly black so Sherlock could not see John except for a faint outline but he could hear the doctor shift around as he made himself comfortable.

Sherlock lay stiffly on his side of the bed in the darkness and wondered what to do. How did one go about initiating sexual congress? Did you just say it? What would he say exactly? He was nearly ninety percent sure John reciprocated his interest but what if he was wrong? It happened, infrequently yes, but it happened. Sherlock opened his mouth to at least ask John if he wanted to cuddle when a soft snore reached his ears. Oh. John had fallen asleep. Well, it had been a busy day and beer always made John drowsy. Heartily disappointed Sherlock lay back on his pillow and tried not to feel miserable. “I guess I’ll just sleep then.” he complained softly to himself.

John snuggled right over and all of Sherlock’s unhappiness melted away as John’s arm and leg tucked themselves tight over Sherlock’s body and John’s head inveigled itself onto Sherlock’s shoulder. His hand went right up Sherlock’s shirt and rested directly on top of Sherlock’s scar and Sherlock was almost sure John had unconsciously pressed kiss to his chest. John’s body was wonderfully heavy, Sherlock felt anchored into place and secure. He would have thought it uncomfortable to have someone nearly lying on him but it wasn’t, it was extremely pleasant.

Sherlock’s heart throbbed and he carefully bent his neck enough to touch his own lips to John’s hair. It was prickly and ticklish but Sherlock liked the way it felt when his lips brushed over it. With a bit of shifting in almost imperceptible movements Sherlock was able to tilt John’s head a tiny bit. Soft, so softly Sherlock settled another kiss onto John’s forehead. The doctor’s skin was warm and inviting so Sherlock planted a slightly more awkward kiss on the tip of John’s nose.

Sherlock didn’t expect John’s head to tilt back even more and he certainly didn’t expect to feel John’s wonderfully delicious mouth pressed to his. It was brief, no more than a second or two of perfect contact then John’s head dropped back down. The doctor snored again and mumbled, “Night love.” and snored one more time, his arm now snaking around Sherlock’s ribs and holding him tight.

Sherlock was speechless, his fingers pressed to his lips in shock. He’d just had his very first kiss and the person who kissed him was unconscious. John had said _love_. Why? Did he mean Sherlock? Was he dreaming? Was it something he was just used to saying, perhaps each night he’d gone to bed with Mary while their relationship had still been fairly good? It still gave Sherlock unpleasant feelings inside whenever he thought about John’s short-lived marriage. He’d tried his best to be a supportive friend during the entire ordeal but it was something that took John away and Sherlock hadn’t cared for that a bit. Suddenly Sherlock felt daring and pressed one last kiss to his soldier’s forehead before whispering as softly as he could, “Goodnight my love.”

He couldn’t sleep, not right away. Instead Sherlock lay in the strange room holding onto John feeling both happy and lonely. He wanted so much more than this, so very much more. Sherlock wanted the ring on his finger to be more than a prop for a case. He wanted the man in his arms to be more than just a dear friend. Sherlock wanted more than John could ever be willing to give because it was so very much no sane person would say yes.

John muttered and shifted in his sleep. His sore shoulder was bothering him and he would need to move soon. Sherlock was surprised when John grabbed Sherlock’s hip and almost yanked the detective toward him so John’s leg was between Sherlock’s thighs, and Sherlock’s leg was now draped over John’s hip. John’s face was almost crushed to Sherlock’s chest but his arm was hooked over Sherlock’s ribs and the soldier seemed to find the position very comfortable because he muttered wordlessly again and nestled in even tighter.

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile as John took comfort in him, the position was a good one because Sherlock’s arm was now in a position to hold John very closely indeed. Sherlock was as wrapped around John as he could get and it was simply lovely. John felt safe and sweet in his arms and Sherlock fell asleep happy.

“Oh god my bladder.” groaned John several hours later. Sherlock slowly rose from deep sleep. He felt something warm run softly across his side. John’s hand was rubbing Sherlock’s hip and thigh, encouraging him to wake! “You have to move your leg, I have to go.”

Sherlock rolled back and lifted his leg, missing John’s warmth and touch instantly. He opened his eyes in time to see John scoot off the far side of the bed and shut himself into the bathroom. Now that he was awake Sherlock could feel a similar urgency. They’d had rather a lot to drink last night and an overfull bladder was at least easy to deal with. If they’d stayed out longer Sherlock was sure they’d have hangovers as well. As it was he felt jittery and distantly anxious. He climbed out of bed the second he heard the toilet flush and groaned when the shower started immediately. Sherlock could not wait. He got up and tapped at the door, “John?”

“Go ahead; I’ve got the curtain closed.” Sherlock was grateful for John’s endless understanding and used the bathroom quickly, feeling a little strange about wanting to infringe on John’s time in the loo. As soon as he was done John remarked, “This is the smallest shower I’ve ever seen in a hotel room. There’s no way more than one person could ever fit.” Sherlock could smell shampoo. John was washing his hair. “Your shampoo is better, we should have brought it.”

“Next trip, remind me.” said Sherlock who lingered unnecessarily at the sink to wash his hands. He brushed his teeth to a high shine. As he did so Sherlock noted that though the complimentary shampoo was gone from the basket on the counter the conditioner remained, “Do you want this?” he asked John. When the doctor asked him to pass it through Sherlock shut his eyes and pushed his hand past the curtain to blindly hold the small container out. John’s wet hands slid over Sherlock’s palm to take it and Sherlock stalled some more, drying his hands now that John had wet them a second time. He could see the shower curtain from the mirror which was steaming over rapidly. The water shut off and John was going to come out. “I’ll order breakfast in.” Sherlock bolted.

He was just going over the room-service menu when John came out wearing the hotel robe. The doctor stood right next to Sherlock and perused the menu with him. He smelled heavenly and it was all Sherlock could do to keep from burying his nose in John’s damp hair. Their bodies were so close Sherlock would only have to move the slightest bit to …. “Look they have one of those sampler things, I like those because you can try a bit of everything. Let’s get that, it says it’s big enough for two.”

“Whatever you like John.” John looked pleased and called the order in himself. Sherlock got dressed in the clothes he intended to wear that day. He had dark jeans and black trainers, a simple tee-shirt and a chambray button-down. When John eyed him Sherlock flushed, “I would stand out in a suit.”

“It’s so unfair. You look fantastic no matter what you wear.” Sherlock blushed and had to look away because John’s expression was blatantly admiring and he just didn’t know how to respond to a compliment. “Well, at least I’ll be comfortable.” the doctor sighed and went to dress. “See? Comfortable.”

John came out wearing a brown plaid shirt to go with his jeans and brogues. Sherlock looked at him, “I agree John. I shall be very comfortable looking at you today.” John’s cheeks went the tiniest bit pink but he busied himself repacking their suitcases needlessly until their breakfast arrived. The trolly arrived with a bouquet of fresh complimentary flowers and an assortment of tiny honey pots with different names on them. The server explained that the hotel was part of a group of local businesses that helped market the floral industry and its many by-products one of which was honey. “It’s for science John!” protested Sherlock when John put the basket of honey out of Sherlock’s reach when he realized Sherlock was opening all of them and tasting them one after the other.

“Sherlock I’m not walking around with you wired on sweets all day!” Sherlock fought back a bit and wrenched back a honey-coated spoon, sticking it in his mouth as quickly as he could as John rolled his eyes and removed all the rest of the jams as well before sitting with Sherlock at the small dining table. “At least eat some solid food before you go on an all-honey diet, alright?”

There were all sorts of small temptations to distract them and John and Sherlock enjoyed their diverse breakfast of mini-quiches, fresh sweet rolls, tiny meat pies, and all manner of other food made into sample sized portions. The coffee provided was strong and rich and John was very pleased when Sherlock began to divide each different item in half so they both could taste the different dishes. A last cup of coffee saw them on their way and Sherlock’s heart was light because John took his hand the second they left the hotel room.

There was a self-guided tour available for all the major growers in the area so with map in hand John and Sherlock set off in a rented car to visit one massive farm after another. They were three farms in before they came across the main distributor of Oleander. The entire place was rigidly controlled, mindful of safety. John looked surprised when Sherlock didn’t stay for longer than it took to have to most cursory look at the place, “Come along John.”

Sherlock took over driving. He was adding and dismissing factors in his mind as he chose side-roads and access tracks to follow until they came across a small house near a lazily flowing stream. It was incredibly picturesque, right down to the gently swaying tall grasses, the banks of flowers of every description, but most for the beehives. There were dozens.

“Hey Sherlock, let’s stop here!” John knew very well Sherlock loved bees to distraction so Sherlock was very willing to pull into the farm. A smiling couple came out and John introduced them, “My husband and I were just doing one of those self-guided tours and we sort of self-guided our way here. We’d love to know about your bees if you have the time.”

They did. Sherlock put his arm around John’s shoulder and John put his around Sherlock’s waist as they listened to the young couple discuss their growing business, “We’re not the only ones with bees around here of course, not with all the flowers available. Nearly everyone who has a mind to do so has a hive or two in their yard.”

“We were at the Oleander farm, isn’t that dangerous?” asked John, looking at Sherlock. They listened to a long explanation about how Oleander blossoms had no nectar to harvest. Sherlock was a bit put out to hear that because it unsatisfactorily closed the line of inquiry he’d been so sure was his answer. He was silent and just drove them back to return the car and go back to the hotel. John reached over and rested his hand on Sherlock’s thigh for a second, “You thought it was the honey.”

“I was so sure it was something along those lines. It made the most sense. It’s readily available for sale at open air markets everywhere, any cottage crafter could produce their own line of honey. I’ll have to think everything over again.” Sherlock was glum now. He was no closer to solving the mystery than when he’d first learned of it. To add insult to injury Sherlock was still a virgin and he’d deliberately booked them a single room out of town on purpose! That’s not how Sherlock had seen their fake honeymoon going. He sighed. The rental was returned and they went back to their room, “We have it for another night. I don’t know if you feel like remaining here or going back to London. There are no leads to follow here.”

“Well we’re here, we have a room, that pub was nice, let’s go check around and see what else is nice. Come on Sherlock, we’re on our honeymoon.” Dead end or no Sherlock wasn’t about to be unhappy about going out with John. He couldn’t do anything until all of Molly’s tests were run at any rate, and that could be days from now. There was no need to keep up the charade of being husbands but if John was willing Sherlock was hardly going to let the opportunity be wasted!

“Very well John.” John was amazing all over again. He simply wandered around and chatted with people. After strolling for a while and enjoying a take-away coffee John had made six different acquaintances and been referred to four different places to spend their evening. Sherlock smiled broadly down at the smaller man, “You are a very useful spouse to have.”

“Well you haven’t had me yet, so let’s just see.” John winked and led Sherlock down the street by the hand while Sherlock blushed scarlet. That was a hit. That was a very palpable hit. John had just hit on Sherlock right out in the open, right there in the street. They spent the day looking at bookstores and museums, searching for something to give Mrs. Hudson and finding a charming sugar bowl.

The venue John ended up choosing was musical, there was another pub that featured food as well live music, tonight’s selection was supposed to be heavy in brass instruments, something John enjoyed very much. “Back when I was in the army me and my mates used to use all our downtime doing stuff like this. We’d go on the pull at night but during the day or early evening we’d look for stuff like this. It can be great a lot of the time.”

It was a lot of fun. The music was raw but lively and Sherlock found the creative drive very inspiring and momentarily regretted not having his violin. It would be highly enjoyable to play with a group like this, unfettered and musically free. There were lots of people and lots of interesting refreshments to enjoy. John and Sherlock sat on one of the long benches that lined the room, genially pressed together. Sherlock enjoyed that very much since it meant John spent most of the evening under his arm and safely by his side. Sherlock stroked John’s bicep with his fingertips as they listened and watched the music and John’s hand often rested on Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock slipped off for one of his many bathroom breaks and while gone he heard a large roar of male laughter. A very happy group had arrived. Sherlock washed up and went to rejoin John but stopped cold at the entrance back into the main room. John was speaking to a small crowd of tall strong men, all of whom were grinning down at the smaller man. The one directly in front of John was huge, ginger, and apparently very friendly but what made Sherlock stop moving was how John looked! John was happy, incredibly happy. His smile was large and filled with warmth. He was gazing up at the big man and looked comfortable doing it. The large man was handsome too, rugged and heavily muscled as were all his companions. Suddenly Sherlock felt washed out and too bony. He really was a wraith! Look at those men, all of them were burly and nearly splitting at the seams with vitality. Sherlock felt like one of the undead by comparison.

Suddenly the big man put his hand on John’s shoulder, _his wounded shoulder_! John didn’t seem to mind and kept speaking to the stranger. Sherlock felt something twist deep inside his body, a dark ugly feeling coupled with a sense of inadequacy that the detective had never really felt before. How could he possibly go over there and stand next to John when John clearly preferred to fill his eyes with the towers of testosterone that were chatting him up and touching him? The rest of the group left John and the man alone, heading to the bar. The tall man was still smiling down at John; his hand was still on John’s shoulder. He was _rubbing_ John’s shoulder. His. Hand. Was. On. John.

Sherlock was at John’s side before his brain kicked in, the sick feeling still clawing at his insides as the man completely failed to draw back and made no move to take his hand off John. Sherlock’s face froze into his blankest expression and he felt his jaw lock together. He wanted to say things but he couldn’t even deduce the first thing about these people, he was off kilter with what he now recognized as blinding jealousy. The ginger man noticed Sherlock walk over and suddenly Sherlock was being given a very toothy smile, “Well hello there. I’m Bill,” the man let go of John and stepped toward Sherlock or tried to but John was magically in the way, “Hey!” he protested.

“Not this one Bill! Hands off. Sherlock? Sherlock this is my old mate from the army, this is Sargent Bill Murray. Bill this is …”

“No way John, no way in _hell_ does someone like _you_ know someone like _him_! Leave off Watson, you’re too young for this. So…Sherlock, care for a drink? There’s a bar right over there, we can get a glass of something and get to know one another. Watson did you just kick me?” was this walking steroid talking to him? Sherlock scowled down at John who was grinning hugely, “What?”

Sherlock was standing right next to John and allowed his finger to graze over John’s ring, partially to remind John of the role they were playing but mostly to reassure himself that John hadn’t taken it off, “Bill, I’d like you to meet my husband, Sherlock Holmes.”

Bill was stunned, “You’re lying.” he declared. “You’re having me on.”

“I’m really not, look, matching rings and everything.” John held up his hand and Sherlock obligingly held up his, and even went so far as to take John’s hand and look this Bill person right in the eyes, staking his claim on John visually.

“Watson how the hell did you trick someone as lovely as this into marrying your short little arse? You’re all broken and wrinkly. Tiny and withered almost. You’re hardly the same man I once knew. In fact, I think you’re even shorter now, definitely grayer. Is that a pot belly? I see your trousers went up a size or three. From up here I think I can see a bald spot forming, was your granddad bald? You know it’s hereditary, you can’t fight it. I bet you still wear those eye-bleeding jumpers. Can you go out in public in those or is that why Sherlock is so beautiful, to offset your general lack of appeal?” John was laughing by the time Bill got to the end of his insulting questions. “Wait I know, Sherlock lost a bet right? He owes you his life or something so he’s putting up with you in return? Is this about next week? You know you didn’t have to get married to go. Are you really married because, hey Sherlock, what are you doing next week? I’d like to take you someplace special.”

“Fuck right the fuck off Bill. Don’t ask my husband out on dates. He’s mine.” John’s hand tightened around Sherlock’s fingers. “This isn’t about next week at all.” John turned his eyes up to Sherlock and he looked a bit embarrassed, “I haven’t even told Sherlock yet.”

“What? Why? Bugger that you little shit. Sherlock next week there’s a formal dinner in honor of our old battalion. John’s required to attend however if you feel like maybe arriving with someone more impressive on your arm I do look rather dashing in my formalwear. Maybe you’d like to see what it feels like to have a real soldier by your side?” Bill gave Sherlock a very inviting look and winced. “Did you just kick me again Watson?”

John stood back at ease and raised an eyebrow before laying into his old friend, “Stop hitting on my husband! I’m a very jealous man and you’re a trollop. I’m going to have to get this jacket fumigated now that you’ve touched it. I can see from the puffiness around your eyes that you’ve continued your endless love affair with partying and by the smell of you the company you keep spends a lot of time in dim alleys for five pounds a pop. From down here I can also see that you’re getting a nose-hair trimmer for Christmas, _please_ , do everyone a favor and accept it. I’m going to throw in some deodorant too; you do know that soap is not a prohibited substance? I admire the fact that you haven’t got a gray hair on your head but then, I seem to recall your hair being a bit darker than this…let me guess, hair dye? Oh Bill, it’s not come to that has it? Sherlock, _don’t touch him_. You don’t know where he’s been.”

“Shut it Watson, look, we’re just out for drinks tonight before some of us get redeployed. John, you should come out with us, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you and you can let us get to know your man a bit before we shove off. What do you say?” Bill was smiling down at John, his brown eyes friendly and encouraging.

John looked up at Sherlock, how could Sherlock say no? These were John’s old friends, friends that he’d bled and suffered with. “Whatever you’d like John.” Sherlock answered John’s unspoken request for permission.

“Oh my fucking _hell_ that voice! Say something else Sherlock.” Bill was almost leering again.

“Something else.” said Sherlock dryly and Bill made a growling sound, “If John wishes to enjoy the evening in company I shall of course not object, indeed, I would like to hear something of what my darling husband was like if John is agreeable. He doesn’t speak of it often.”

“You sure? I mean I know I’d like to but are you sure? You might not find it very interesting.” John looked concerned. An evening out with people he didn’t know would not normally keep Sherlock’s attention for more than a moment but not this group.

“My dear, I find myself eager to meet the others, shall we?” Sherlock smiled down at John and found the use of an endearment to have put a faint blush on his soldier’s cheek. Sherlock linked their arms together, “Lead the way John.” Bill grinned and gave him a thumbs up. They were going to go out drinking with the boys.


	9. Evening Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a moment of worry Sherlock is introduced to John's old friends.

More people arrived shortly after they were ensconced at the bar, all of them coming right over to say hello. John kept Sherlock’s hand and didn’t seem perturbed in the least by allowing his old friends to believe he was married to a man. Sherlock was amazed. He hadn’t been sure how John would respond if actually put to the test but he hadn’t budged from their story a jot. As far as anyone could see John and Sherlock were very obviously together. The music continued to be performed in the background while everyone visited and ordered their drinks, soon a whole corner of the main room was filled with their group. Bill was mostly chatting to John and standing closer to the doctor than Sherlock was comfortable with. Bill’s voice was filled with joviality, his eyes a little too warm, too lingering, “I can’t believe we ran into you here! I keep meaning to come to London but I never get around to it.

“We’re just in town for work, we almost went back this afternoon but decided to stay the night.” answered John. Bill kept looking John over and Sherlock frowned, putting his arm around John’s shoulder covetously. As far as Bill knew John was married! He shouldn’t be looking at John so…at all! Wasn’t there other people he needed to catch up with?

“Work? Aren’t you doctoring still?” Bill now looked back and forth between them. To distract him from John Sherlock answered, keeping his voice even and controlled.

“John and I are detectives, full-time for me, part-time for him. We work out of our home in Baker Street.” Sherlock was watching Bill closely, the man was looking at John with surprise.

“Consulting detectives,” corrected John, “We pick and choose the cases if they’re interesting enough for Sherlock. He’s a genius, a real genius at what he does. It’s amazing.”

“John blogs about it and has managed to attract more work for us by doing so. He’s really very useful.” John nudged Sherlock and smiled a bit bashfully, “He is the perfect partner.”

“How long have you been together? Last I heard you married some bird or something, did I hear wrong?” Bill looked down at John whose expression was grim now as well as directed at the floor.

“You didn’t hear wrong. I was briefly married to a woman named Mary Morstan.” John clearly didn’t want to speak about it. His body was stiff, filled with lingering bitterness. John didn’t shrug off betrayal easily. Bill noticed something was amiss and opened his mouth to ask John about it.

Sherlock cut in, “It wasn’t brief enough. I should have married John years ago, back when we first met. He’d just returned home. Instead I was a fool and Mary won that battle. I got lucky and had a second chance. I got John, so clearly I won the war. That day was nearly as important as the day we met.”

John was smiling again, his eyes soft now and Sherlock felt warm inside once again, all the dark jealous feelings evaporating under the balm of John’s gaze, “I married Mary for all the wrong reasons. I should have known Sherlock and I would end up together right from the first day. That was a big day, the biggest day ever. I met Sherlock and we became flatmates a few hours later, we were best friends right after that, and he’s just everything to me.”

“Where’d you meet?” A short woman came up and leaned against Bill like he was a wall and Bill just rested his hand on her shoulder. John grinned over to her and she grinned back. Sherlock examined her quickly, military as well, she looked like she was still in uniform despite the fact that she was garbed in what Sherlock knew were known on the street as killer kicks, skin tight leggings, and a heavily buckled corset top. She looked savage and friendly at the same time, her long dark hair hanging down in smooth coils. Her skin was like creamy coffee but her voice had a faint highland burr to it. He was intrigued, “It must have been someplace special.”

“For us yes. Good to see you Cam.” said John with a small laugh, “We met at the morgue in London through a mutual friend. I was looking for someplace to stay and Sherlock was looking for someone to share his flat with. One look, that’s all it took and Sherlock knew everything about me. He’s amazing, just amazing.”

“He must be. I thought John was a straight as an arrow. How’d you manage to turn his head Sherlock?” the woman identified as Cam took Bill’s drink away from him and drank it herself. Bill didn’t resist and just ordered a new one.

“John is firmly heterosexual. I expect it’s just me in particular and I have no idea why he chose me. I’m not very good at interpreting interpersonal relationships. My social handicap is one that John has been helping me with since the first day.” John squeezed his hand and leaned up against Sherlock affectionately.

“He knocked me off my feet the first case we ever did together. This mad bastard nearly died, someone else actually did die, and well, how could I resist? He promised me danger.” everyone was laughing now and nodding, clinking their drinks together. The only part of the story they never discussed was how John was the one who had shot the very bad cabbie that first case. Sherlock was intrigued further by John’s old friends. He recalled when John had explained how they’d met to Mary’s friends, minus the romantic overtones of course, really it was impressive how John could simply state the facts yet make everything seem so filled with destiny. Mary’s friends had been taken aback and more than a little disturbed. Certainly none of them had laughed and toasted one another like these people were doing.

There were both men and women milling about, all of them poised on their feet as if ready for action, yet all of them calm and collected. Sherlock recognized their attitude from John, that’s how John was, always on stand-by, always at the ready. His brave soldier! Sherlock didn’t think, he just leaned down and kissed John’s cheek right in front of everyone but John didn’t pull away or even flinch, he just smiled his warm wonderful smile and said, “That did it for me, after that, no one else compared.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black there John, madman indeed. Sherlock, did John ever tell you about his time in?” Cam was looking right at Sherlock and he shook his head, “I first met John on the field. I’d been shot, just a flesh wound but it was bleeding hard and I was pinned down. There was enemy fire all around us and this crazy little medic comes crawling over, patches me up on the spot and dragged me backwards until we were out of sight. He left me with some other medics and went out and did it again. Four people he dragged back and that wasn’t even the first time. He has no fear, none whatsoever. John just kept stitching everyone up one at a time until we got picked up, kept working on us until we arrived at camp, and went on to work all night. Tireless!

“I don’t remember it being that dramatic.” protested John instantly and Cam rolled her eyes before elbowing Bill. “We were in a war zone, of course it was busy.”

“Well I wasn’t there when John met Cam, I met her after in post-op a year or so later. John and I worked together sort of, I flew people in and out and he patched them up if it was even possible. I was always bringing John to one hot-zone after another, he never panicked, he was always prepared for the worst and sometimes that’s just what we got. It was like the nastier it was the harder John went. I got tagged one trip and between John keeping me from bleeding out midair and me trying to fly us all away and not crash it was something of a miracle we all made it back to camp in one slightly holeyer piece.”

Everyone was laughing along like these were the funniest stories they’d ever heard, one person at a time recollecting this or that time they’d been wounded in battle or how they’d done something outrageously foolhardy because it needed to be done and that’s what they were there for. The knowledge that he’d almost lost John over and over before they ever even met left the detective almost breathless with anxiety. His arm tightened around John, needing to know that his soldier was with him, warm and alive. He knew it logically but his arm was listening to his heart.

John knew half the group personally and was soon on a first name basis with all of them. Sherlock perched on a barstool and soaked up every single word in near silence. He realized after a while that John was leaning back onto him, his feel planted firmly on the floor, Sherlock’s knees on either side of John’s waist. Sherlock’s arm had migrated from around John’s shoulder to around John’s ribs where his fingers were laced together with John’s and the other holding his latest drink. Everyone was in good humor and the story trading went on for a very long time. Sherlock took advantage and very casually kissed the top of John’s head before sitting back again. John’s hand squeezed his affectionately and the doctor once again made no protest.

The war stories petered off after a long time and detective stories took their place. A sound system replaced the live music and the bar grew slightly rowdier now that there wasn’t a band to pay attention to. John and Sherlock were telling everyone about the case they were working on and had a dense crowd of hard bodies listening intently to everything they’d done so far including Sherlock’s theory about the honey and amateur apiarists, “That’s incredible. All you did was look at these people and you knew to come here and look? That’s amazing! Hey, I sound like John!” everyone laughed at the soldier who spoke. The man was named Corbin and he liked the idea of toxic honey, “It could be like a treasure hunt. We should do that tomorrow. We’ve got three more days of leave, who wants to?”

Sherlock was the one who was amazed now, “You’re going to see if anyone has poisonous honey for me? The region is too large to canvas in a reasonable amount of time. I was just going to go back to London until some more evidence comes to light. We were going to leave in the morning.”

“I hate waiting. Scouting around though, sounds like a great way to spend the day, like you said, they probably don’t even know they’re doing it. Lots of amateurs around here, who knows who is doing what. There’s a lot of us, we could cover most of the district in a day I bet, we’ll get samples from everyone, all scientific like. Stay another night, let’s have some fun. Come on John, let us play with you!” John was laughing at the mass of puppy-faces being made at him by everyone in the group.

“Stop! Oh my god are you all are just hideous up close like this. It’s up to Sherlock. Well love? You want to stay another night?” Oh dear lord John had just called him _love_ in public. Sherlock couldn’t speak, his throat was closed up so he nodded vigorously instead. Oh yes, yes he wanted to stay another night in their rented room on the top floor with the one bed and John, “Right then, we’ll stay another night. If that’s what we’re doing then I need to sleep. I’m not all tanked up on energy drinks like you lot. We’ll meet at the hotel for lunch, how’s that for a plan?”

It was agreed upon and then the party really started. John might have wanted to leave but they weren’t letting him go just yet. Drinks became stronger even as they got smaller, appearing with increased frequency. Each one burned its way into Sherlock, there were so many different kinds and he was curious to taste all of them. He felt the glow of alcohol warm him, making him feel slightly more carefree than he normally was. John seemed to be holding up a lot better, his tolerance was heightened compared to Sherlock, John went out for drinks all the time, Sherlock practically never did. Someone suggested dancing. There was music so why not? Soon John and Sherlock were dancing together on the floor, having a laugh with everyone. Sherlock felt buzzed with alcohol, he and John were as drunk as everyone else but managed to retain some decorum.

The music slowed down but instead of taking Sherlock to the bar for another drink John held Sherlock close and danced him unhurriedly around the room, their eyes locked together. Sherlock felt weak kneed again and breathless by the time they were done, John’s eyes were soft and his head tilted back invitingly. Sherlock smiled gently and bent his head, their lips grazed and then Bill was shouting drunkenly in Sherlock’s ear, “You gotta dance with me once, you’re too pretty to waste on just John, come on Sherlock? One dance? I’m being deployed to a war-zone in three days, have mercy.”

Cam showed up, “What did we say about cock-blocking Bill? It’s not funny. Leave the love-birds alone. John, take Sherlock away before Bill molests him or something. You know he only thinks with his dick. Sherlock, don’t take it personal, he does this with everyone. I mean everyone.”

“You’re the best friend a fella could ever have!” Bill was hugging Cam who looked hard done by as he crushed her to him, “You’re like a little sister, like, a real _little_ sister. Like a miniature. Like a teeny tiny shrunken baby sister. I love you Cameron!”

“Oh god your breath stinks! John was right, you need deodorant too. This is the worst part of being your best friend. The next time we go out you’re showering first! Stop hugging me! If you pass out here I’m leaving you for the constabulary to drag out, I sprained my back last time.” Cam elbowed Bill sharply till he stood up and grinned down at her, “You are a ridiculous sot.”

“Yer still my best friend.” grinned Bill who was swaying. Cam was smiling up at the large man with amused resignation.

“Yes, lord knows why. Go on John, we’ll see you tomorrow. Sherlock, nice meeting you. Back away a bit first because Bill will try to grab your arse. He does that. I apologize for whatever he’s about to say.” Cam tugged on Bill’s arm.

“Your mouth is beautiful, I want it on me!” shouted Bill and John started to laugh as Cam covered her face with both hands and groaned. Sherlock stared at Bill with some curiosity, “Stop him Watson, s’not fair. You get all the pretty ones. His eyes are lovely too, pretty eyes, pretty mouth, pretty ar….”

“That’s our cue to go.” said John. Sherlock was relieved. He wasn’t sure he could stand there and listen to Bill much longer.

“Kiss ‘im! You ain’t kissed ‘im all night Watson! Why? His mouth is gorgeous; I’ll kiss it if you don’t want to. Come ‘ere Sherlock, pretty man, fucking pretty, pretty man. Love your lips.” John and Cam both stopped Bill from leaning further forward and Cam stuck a paper napkin into his pursed lips. “Maffs mot fummy Fam!”

“Excuse him Sherlock; he turns into a walking erogenous zone when he gets drunk. Pay him no mind.” Cam eyed her large friend with well-worn annoyance and tolerance.

“I don’t mind.” said Sherlock, trying to maintain the casual tone in his voice but not entirely succeeding, “If only to shut him up.” Bill was still chanting the word “kiss” over and over again.

John turned in Sherlock’s arms so they were facing one another. The doctor smiled up at Sherlock, “We’re not on display, love. We don’t have to do what Bill tells us to do.”

“I really don’t mind.” said Sherlock softly and bent his head. John met him half-way and in front of everyone their lips pressed together.

Time halted.

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut.

John gripped his waist hard.

Sherlock’s arms wound around John’s neck.

Their lips moved ever so gently, testing, tasting discretely. Sherlock wanted to deepen the kiss but was afraid of how his transport would respond. As it was Sherlock felt gloriously alive and almost vibrating with happiness. Their second kiss lasted only slightly longer than their first but at least this time both of them were awake. John broke the kiss slowly, reluctantly as both of them became aware once more of their leering audience, “Right then. Time to go.” said John briskly as if this was an everyday occurrence and he hadn’t just made Sherlock nearly swoon in mere seconds. “See you tomorrow everyone, noon, don’t forget.”

A chorus of farewells followed them out the pub door. John pulled Sherlock close to him as they hailed a taxi to get back to their hotel. Sherlock’s head was swimming and John looked concerned. “I need to lay down.” mumbled Sherlock. He needed to close his eyes.

“Not yet love, we’re almost back. Eyes open Sherlock.” John was still calling him _love_ even though there was no one but the taxi driver to hear. He was such a good partner, he didn’t drop the act for a moment. Sherlock’s heart thumped and he wanted to kiss John but suddenly the idea of moving wasn’t a good one. The swaying motions of the cab weren’t agreeing with Sherlock and John looked even more concerned. By the time they got to their hotel Sherlock managed to get to their bathroom just in time to be prodigiously ill. He’d had more to drink and eat tonight than he was accustomed to. His head was pounding and he barely registered John cleaning him up and stripping him down before tucking him into bed. Sherlock just wanted to close his eyes so he did. That was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...I guess John will just sleep then.


	10. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's friends have offered to help with the case and that will certainly make things go faster. Some things at least.

He woke to a pounding head, a dry disgusting mouth, and the discovery that he was wearing only his pants. John was wrapped around him and he didn’t look like he felt any better than Sherlock. “I feel like hell.” groaned Sherlock. His whole body felt almost feverish and bloated.

“I need the loo and then we need tea.” groaned John right back, rolling painfully away from Sherlock to go to the washroom. He came out several minutes later looking washed up and slightly more alert, “Go on then, you’ll feel better.” Reluctantly Sherlock made himself sit up. The walk to the bathroom was the least entertaining walk he’d ever been on but relieving himself went a long way toward feeling human, but not as much as brushing his teeth. He’d shower after he’d had some tea.

John was already stirring sugar into Sherlock’s cup when he got out, the small tea service in the room set out on their in-room table. Sherlock sat himself down gently to wait and John set the cup in front of him, “Good morning by the way,” John leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock was so surprised he didn’t say anything or even move. “Breakfast will be here soon. I called it in already so I’m going to jump in the shower fast.”

John must be staying in character. It made sense. It would be easier to maintain the ruse if John weren’t constantly switching back and forth between their real relationship and the false marriage. It made sense but it didn’t take away the soft thrill Sherlock felt at the memory of John’s mouth on his. He tucked the impression away in a new special room of his mind palace, reorganizing everything to make a place for all the new data. He’d enjoy the memories after the case was over and John wasn’t pretending anymore.

“Toast will be welcome.” said Sherlock, still in a bit of shock. He didn’t know what to say so he said nothing further. Maybe if he delayed here John would kiss him again. Sherlock sipped his tea and waited for his head to stop feeling like it was six times heavier than usual. John didn’t take long and was out and dressed before Sherlock finished his tea, “How much time have we got before we meet everyone?”

“A little under two hours, did you want to go somewhere?” John was smiling kindly at Sherlock who shook his head carefully, “Good because I’m still knackered, I just want a bit of a lie in if that’s alright.”

“Sounds perfect John,” Sherlock bit his lip for a second but since they were still pretending he reached across the small table and took John’s hand in his, not looking at the doctor but still carefully sliding their fingers together. John tightened his grip and rubbed his thumb over the back of Sherlock’s fingers, “I’m not feeling my best at the moment.”

“Well they tried to pour half the pub down our throats last night; I’d say we’re doing pretty well.” John looked over at Sherlock with some concern, “You didn’t mind did you? Being with all my old mates? I know that kind of came up unexpectedly, I wasn’t really sure how to play it.”

“You were absolutely perfect John; it was a very diverting evening.” Someone knocked politely at the door so John went to answer. Breakfast had arrived, just hot cereal and lots of toast as well as a huge carafe of coffee, a pitcher of water, and even a large container of juice. “Thank you for looking after me, that was a bit embarrassing.”

“I’ve poured myself back into our flat after all sorts of occasions and you’ve helped me every single time. Don’t mention it Sherlock, eat up. We need all of this. It’s going to be a long day.” John gave Sherlock his share of the breakfast and they set to carefully, both their stomachs still tender from the night before. The hot cereal was soothing and John pretended not to notice the size of the dollop of honey Sherlock poured into his. The meal did help settle him a great deal and Sherlock found himself enjoying everything more than he expected. John sighed with contentment when he put the now empty tray in the hallway, “This is the best part of staying at a hotel. No dishes.”

Sherlock took his turn in the shower and dressed but still felt very low energy, “I need to stretch out.” Sherlock collapsed onto the bed and threw his arm over his eyes. John putted around the room drawing the drapes and dimming the lights before joining Sherlock but staying on his side of the bed. Sherlock sighed softly, not pleased with the arrangement. Making a decision he copied John’s normal position and laid his head on John’s chest, snuggling as closely as he could managed considering their size difference. He accomplished it. John simply began to toy with Sherlock’s hair so Sherlock closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

John’s fingers scratched and carded, petted and stroked Sherlock’s curls and it made the detective absolutely melt. With a contented sigh Sherlock nestled closer, eyes closed and tilted his head back so John could reach that really good spot just behind his ears, “You’re like a cat.” said John softly and then his mouth was on Sherlock’s.

John was kissing him.

John was kissing him while they lay on a bed together.

They were alone in a room and they were kissing on a bed. Sherlock made a strange sound as his whole body reacted, twisting and moving until he was sitting on John’s thighs, and latched onto John with both arms and legs, holding the doctor onto the pillows as their mouths fused together. It was marvelous. John’s mouth was sweet and welcoming and Sherlock clung even harder. Sherlock found that John was holding him just as tight, his fingers almost painfully tangled in his curls to keep their mouths together. Sherlock’s breath was catching in his throat; he wanted to simply consume the small man beneath him. He could feel his whole body begin to flare with desire, if he let his knees slide away from John’s hips their bodies would meet in the most delightful manner. This could happen! It would have to be fast but it would be worth it. John sounded almost desperate when he broke the kiss, biting and sucking on Sherlock’s lower lip, his voice raspy and gruff, “Sherlock, god Sherlock…I want...”

There was heavy knocking at the door and both Sherlock and John glared at it. The knocking continued and was joined by Bill’s familiar voice, “I smell coffee! I need a cuppa. Jooooooooooohn. Sherrrrrrrrrrrrrlooooooooock. Let me in. I can knock all day. Cam’s not here to stop me. JoOoOoOoOoOoOohn!!” What an unholy amount of racket! Didn’t he know people were hung over and trying to make out?

“Kill him.” snapped Sherlock, still crouched over John.

“On it.” said John and they moved to leave the bed together. Sherlock was grateful that he wasn’t fully erect but he’d been on his way. A quick glance at John showed the doctor to be in a similar state which was very gratifying and the discovery made Sherlock considerably less displeased as he had been. He’d aroused John! John still yanked the door open and glared up at a hugely smiling Bill, “ _You are going to die_!” he shouted.

“Hey John, god that coffee smells good, morning Sherlock, I like that shirt, purple really suits you. I got a room here last night, cool right? It’s just downstairs; I figured you must be up by now. John used to be up before dawn all the time.” Bill just pushed his way in and poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa with his huge grin firmly affixed.

“I forgot how annoying you can be on leave.” grated John and Bill just laughed, “Right, well, good morning Bill, please, help yourself to coffee. I think there’s some toast crumbs left, feel free to hoover them up.”

“No worries John, I ordered breakfast, they’ll bring it here, hey look there it is.” Bill popped up off the sofa and answered the knock at the door.

John looked like Cam did the night before. He was just standing there with both his hands over his face and trying to breathe deeply. Sherlock came up to him and pulled his hands away, wrapping John’s arms around his waist instead. John leaned forward and rested his forehead on Sherlock’s chest so Sherlock kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back gently, “It’s alright John, we _will_ continue this later, after all, we said we’d stay one more night.” Sherlock wasn’t going to let this go. Fake marriage or not Sherlock was going to _really_ have some kind of sex with John Watson sometime in the next twenty-four hours and nothing, not even Bill, was going to stop him. Enough was enough.

The heat in John’s eyes returned and Sherlock felt his knees weaken once more. How did John do that? “Definitely _later_ then Sherlock.” he promised and Sherlock could hear actual heat in his voice and his knees trembled threateningly. It sounded like John really wanted this! If only it were true Sherlock would be the happiest man in the world. He’d take anything though, even an experience based on false premises because he’d had absolutely nothing until now, anything would be better than that.

Shamelessly eavesdropping Bill said, “Hey since you’re going to be here anyway we should all go out tonight! What do you say Watson? Whatever it is you guys do for fun that’s what we’ll do.” Bill was smiling engagingly at the pair of them.

“We will be collecting data all day and I will be collating it all as soon as I can. I will need to make samples of each honey to determine its toxicity. I will require a series of questions answered for each sample secured, and will begin cross-referencing that information with the botanical data you will also provide. After that the real fun begins. I’m pleased you’re willing to help.” Sherlock used his most reasonable voice.

Bill gaped at him, “That’s what you do for fun?” Sherlock didn’t have his laptop and was nowhere near his home-made lab. Making a manifest of the samples they collected wouldn’t take more than an hour if everything went to plan. That’s not what he was going to do with his evening anyway, not that Bill needed to know.

“Yes. Experiments and data collection take up a large portion of my time. I must constantly add to the bank of information at my disposal. It was only after meeting John that I have even attempted normal social interaction like the one we engaged in last night. It was very informative.” John was smiling over at Sherlock who sat back.

“John is he serious? That’s what you do for fun; you collect data and watch him do experiments?” Bill was shoveling in his breakfast at high speed but still managed to look skeptical.

“He usually works on his experiments while I’m at work or while I’m sleeping. Otherwise I help him do the legwork and occasionally hit people for him. He’s got a website _The Science Of Deduction_. Don’t bother looking at it; I don’t want to watch you sound out the big words.” John was smiling over at Sherlock and he looked proud and almost boastful, “I told you he was a genius. I wasn’t just saying it, he really is brilliant. He never stops being amazing.”

“Well then no offense but I’m taking back my invite. I’m being deployed to a war zone in three days! I need to go have fun.” exclaimed the big man with some piety.

“Wouldn’t it be two days, seeing as it was three days just yesterday?” asked Sherlock and now John was the one laughing.

“Can’t pull that one on him Bill, that’s one of his little moves Sherlock, he tells all the people he hits on that same sad fact like it’s ever worked even once. Nobody feels sorry for you Bill, not enough to sleep with you at least.” John sounded amused.

“I don’t take people to bed to sleep Watson, that’s what they do when _you’re_ in bed with them. In fact, I practically never make it to a bed, that’s how good I am. Anytime, anywhere, that’s me.” Bill gave himself two thumbs up.

“Yes I recall your premature ejaculation problem, pity that’s still an issue. Someday we’ll sit down and have a big-boy discussion about a little thing we grown-ups like to call _self-control_. Still this has no bearing on what my plans are for tonight which is to stay with Sherlock and doing whatever we like doing for as long as we feel like doing it, even if that doesn’t meet your incredible entertainment standards.”

“So no threesome?” asked Bill. “I’ve never been with two blokes at once; you could end up being a life experience.”

“Absolutely not, not ever, never going to happen, never mention it again, and no.” replied John firmly. “Find your own husband; you’re never sleeping with mine.”

“Can’t blame a bloke for trying, he’s lovely even if his brain is too big for me. You always were the smart one John.” Bill was finished eating already and made himself another cup of coffee before relaxing into the sofa. “You two love each other a lot. I respect that. You know I just kid John.”

“I know, that’s why I haven’t gutted you yet, you know I can do it.” Sherlock flushed when Bill proclaimed their supposed love for each other. Well he was half-right. Sherlock really did love John. He was certain John loved him too, he was John’s best friend and John loved his friends. There could be worse situations after all, John might not be his friend at all and Sherlock wouldn’t even have this pretense to enjoy. He’d make the most of it for as long as it lasted.

“Sure Watson, you eviscerate _one person_ and we never stop hearing about it. I’ll back off, no need to stomp your tiny feet.”

Sherlock stared at John, “Did you really eviscerate someone?”

Bill laughed, “I don’t want to hear this story again! Not now Watson, I just ate. Short answer is yes he did but let me enjoy breakfast for a while before he tells that one.”

Oh my god John Watson was a killer! A _savage_ killer! Whatever he had done had made Bill turn slightly green. Sherlock had never been so turned on and seriously considered dragging John to the dubious privacy of the bathroom for an impromptu ravishment.

Bill stood up and stretched, “Everyone will meet downstairs in the reception area, coming?”

“Give us a few minutes, we’ll meet you downstairs.” replied John. Bill got up and sauntered out, patting his stomach contentedly. The second the door closed John turned and pulled Sherlock into his arms, “We only have a minute or two before he decides to come back.”

Sherlock wasted no time. Ruse or not John wanted to kiss and so did Sherlock. They kissed. John was sighing and biting at Sherlock’s bottom lip heatedly, “Later Sherlock, I swear, more of this _later_. For now…fuck.” John kissed Sherlock hard, their tongues sliding together and Sherlock went down in a heap on the sofa. John made a very satisfied sound and kissed Sherlock lightly one more time, “I can’t…if it weren’t for the case I’d….okay. We should go before….we should go.”

“Wait…John?” John had already stood up so Sherlock stood as well and looked down, “I really don’t mind, you know, if you want to kiss me in front of your friends.” Sherlock was blushing faintly, “We’re supposed to be newlyweds.”

“Excellent point Sherlock, I don’t mind either so, we’ll play it by ear yeah? We’d better get downstairs before Bill comes back and tries to sleep with both of us again.” John started to walk away then stopped, turning back to Sherlock and catching him in one last bruising kiss, “For practice.”

Sherlock was nearly floating again. John took his hand and together they rode the lift down to the main reception area where a small and laughing crowd was waiting for them. Cam was already shaking her finger at Bill who was smiling sheepishly down at her. She stopped lecturing him when John arrived, “I told him to leave you two alone! It’s like, well isn’t this your honeymoon?”

“It was supposed to be. We were out for our first night when we ran into you lot, and this morning was filled with unexpected visitors.” said John who looked at Bill with a raised eyebrow. Bill scuffed his feet and looked at his shoes, finally chagrined. “This afternoon is for a case and The Work always comes first so that’s what we’re doing.” John called for everyone’s attention and soon they were organizing themselves into teams.

Sherlock was impressed. This wasn’t like working with Lestrade’s team at the Yard where everyone had resources and technology at their fingertips. This group had cobbled together maps of all sorts from lobbies and tourist information booths, set up a call system with each other’s mobiles, arranged vehicles from those who possessed them and divided the entire district up into small parcels. Everyone was very competitive though what they were competing for was unclear. Sherlock explained the kinds of information he need specific details about and got a bevy of sharp nods. He put together a questionnaire that was loaded onto everyone’s mobile. This would be a very different investigative experience indeed!

They were also extremely childish, rough, foul-mouthed, and argumentative but they seemed accustomed to one another and with barely any assistance from Sherlock got themselves ready to go. John and Sherlock arranged for another vehicle rental and promised to meet back with everyone in three hours.

It was a delightful afternoon. Much like their first time out Sherlock and John drove from farm to farm asking questions and acquiring honey samples. John was so friendly it was no trouble at all to convince each farmer to surrender some of their honey easily. Sherlock claimed a fresh kiss each time they climbed back into their vehicle and John would give him a kiss in return without fail. They didn’t speak much but seemed content to simply enjoy things as they were. John drove while Sherlock logged the new data into the basic spreadsheet he had on his phone. John was so charming they also ended up with three fruit pies from different kitchens, a sack of newly picked apples, and to Sherlock’s delight and John’s mild disgust, a pickled and horrifically deformed pig fetus in a large jar. “Please at least put your coat over it. I think it’s looking at me. This is not going on our mantle. You can keep it in your creepy cupboard with all the rest of your disturbing collection.”

“I’d never risk leaving this on the mantle and my collection is unusual not creepy.” Sherlock lovingly draped his coat over the jar and secured it with a seatbelt. They completed their assigned lot and drove back to the hotel where about half the group were already waiting. Everyone trooped up to their room and Sherlock began assembling notes, questioning each submission closely and generally having a fantastic time. He saw John serving the pies they'd gotten today and people ate up the apples as well but nobody touched Sherlock's pig-in-a-jar.

One at a time John’s old friends left, depositing their finds with the scientist and leaving the information with him once he went over it with them. Cam and Bill were some of the last to linger in the room where John was now packing up the small containers of honey into a box he’d gotten from reception.

Sherlock was working diligently while the data was fresh in his head. He heard John chatting with Bill and Cam but nobody bothered him and he was grateful. Bending his head over his task Sherlock continued. After a long while he was done, the last note logged, the final container packed safely away. John was alone on the sofa and he was watching the telly. Sherlock looked around, “Is everyone gone?”

“Finally yeah, Cam dragged Bill out of here by his ear. They’ve gone to a concert somewhere.” John sat up and smiled at Sherlock, “All done?” when Sherlock nodded John stood, stretched and came over to make Sherlock stand up. A quick palpitation inducing kiss was given and John just said, “I’m starving now. We didn’t have lunch and dinner is nearly over, let go find something for me to eat.”

Sherlock didn’t care where they went so they found a different pub that served food and John indulged in a platter of some kind where everything was fried and came with dipping sauces. It was messy but Sherlock shared a bite or two off the plate. He wasn’t very hungry, he really didn’t require as much food as most people and he felt like he’d been eating steadily for days now. When John was finally satisfied they sat back with some wine and enjoyed the ambience of the bar around them. John finished first and said, “Well, it’s later now. I think we should head back to the room.”

Oh. Yes it was _later_. They were alone, not drunk, not working, they still had their room, and that bed still waited for them. Sherlock paid the tab and John took his hand firmly, nearly dragging a very willing Sherlock out of the pub. They paid for a taxi to rush them back to their hotel, snuggled heavily in the lift but didn’t do anything because there were other people in there with them, hurried to their hotel room door and without hesitation went directly inside to lock themselves away for the night. They had unspoken plans to tend to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alone! Finally! Please please please universe, let them get SOMETHING right.


	11. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's still just the one bed.

 

They were deathly silent when they got back to the room. John excused himself to the bathroom, presumably to freshen up and the thought of John getting ready to do something more than just kiss made Sherlock’s knees quiver yet again! He hoped he got some control of his transport back after this! Sherlock took several deep breaths to steady himself. He was calm _. Calm. Calm. Calm._

When John came out he and Sherlock passed each other by but didn’t touch yet it was still electric. John was wearing his pajamas and Sherlock promised himself that the doctor wouldn’t be wearing them for long. He locked himself into the bathroom and spent just enough time in there to make himself sparkling from head to toe and to make himself as nervous as he could possibly manage. With studied grace Sherlock quit the bathroom and went to John.

John shut off all the lights before they got into bed and the room was plunged into near blackness. Sherlock wanted contact and didn’t know if he should just move right over to John invitingly but John made no bones about cuddling right up, his hand sliding cautiously over Sherlock’s chest before slowly following the row of buttons downward and stopping at his navel. When Sherlock sighed blissfully John’s hand stilled, “Can I?” the doctor asked, his face so close to Sherlock’s that if he turned his head their lips would meet. The tension between them grew.

John’s fingers were tentatively toying with a patch of bare skin on Sherlock’s stomach where his shirt had ridden up an inch or two. Sherlock’s attention was already fixed on the way the pads of John’s fingers felt as they swirled slowly over the exposed flesh. It was barely a touch but Sherlock’s whole body seem to register each gentle stroke. He nodded his head firmly and their faces were close enough that John felt his permission being given. Sherlock’s mouth fell open as John began to feel his way slowly over Sherlock’s abdomen and stomach, using the tips of his fingers and working his way higher and higher beneath his clothes with thoroughness. His fingers were gentle and Sherlock sighed again, “Your skin is so soft, it’s beautiful,” whispered John, “I like the feel of it.”

“Do you…do you want me to open my top?” asked Sherlock breathlessly. His cheeks were burning and he was grateful for the darkness. He couldn’t do this and look at John at the same time. It was too much. Suddenly almost crippling shyness left him nearly paralyzed. What if somehow this was more than John could handle, what if they were making the worst mistake of their lives, what if this was the moment when Sherlock lost John? What if he was awful at it? John was apparently some kind of sex genius who had pleasured half the planet and all Sherlock had managed to do was collect a bunch of sex toys he didn’t even use! What if …he almost bolted when John’s face was pressed to Sherlock’s ribs. He felt the doctor exhaled sharply and then nod decisively, “Alright then.” Sherlock’s voice was steadier than his fingers which trembled a bit but he managed to unbutton his top and sat up to strip it away completely. He let it fall to the side of the bed and lay back down. “Go ahead.”

John’s hand returned and Sherlock could hear John exhale shakily as his fingers trailed up and down Sherlock’s bared flesh. Sherlock couldn't help but shiver and twitch the tiniest bit as John pressed his hand flat, fingers spread wide as he explored Sherlock’s torso. Sherlock blushed again and was glad once more for the lack of light. His body wasn’t amazing like John’s was. He was far too thin for his height, his muscles were flat and unimpressive, even his chest hair was sparse. John’s body was …John’s fingers grazed over Sherlock’s nipple and Sherlock hissed, his back arching involuntarily at the jolt of unexpected pleasure, “Oh god you’re so sensitive.” groaned John. The gentle fingers returned and teased him again so Sherlock struggled to bite back moans, “Sherlock.” John sounded nervous, “Can I try something?”

Sherlock was breathing hard, his eyes wide open and his body rigid, “Yes.” he said. He had no idea what John would do next and it was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. He was becoming aroused too and had no way of concealing it except to hope John didn’t accidentally touch him down there. Should he be so hard already? Didn’t these things take time? John slid his hand slowly from side to side as if trying to touch every bared centimeter of flesh, then began grazing one nipple and then the other as Sherlock gasped over and over again. He felt the mattress shift as John moved himself into a different position and then Sherlock had to cry out as a warm wet mouth sucked a gentle kiss over one nipple while John’s hand gently pinched and rolled the other, “Oh _god_ John!”

John pulled away and sounded worried, “Was that bad?” _Bad_? Was he insane? Sherlock was so hard now he could feel the fabric of his pajama pants pulling tight around his hips. Even the weight of the blankets was doing nothing to hold it down.

“More.” was all Sherlock could say. His chest was heaving and he felt hot all over. John’s mouth returned to his nipple with unerring accuracy and Sherlock moaned loudly as twin shocks of pure delight tormented him. He hadn’t thought his nipples sensitive at all before this! John lapped and flicked, suckled gently while he pinched and rubbed, tweaked and toyed Sherlock’s now stone hard nipples, “John!” Before this night they had been near useless adornments on Sherlock’s body, disregarded and uncared for. Not anymore.

John was breathing hard too now and his voice was raspy, “Sherlock, I want to touch you, can I?” Touch him? More than he was touching him now? Sherlock wanted that. Sherlock wanted that very much.

“Please John. Yes.” Sherlock was begging already. His hips and legs were still under the blankets but his torso was bared and John began to explore Sherlock everywhere with his hands and mouth. Sherlock let his head fall back as he allowed John to do anything he wished. Wherever John kissed him became warm and heated, as if John’s attentions were what Sherlock’s transport had been waiting for all these long years. It came shockingly alive; responding dramatically to each and every touch that burned him but sated nothing. If anything the hunger Sherlock had experience up until now was only whetted and sharpened to a fine point. Sherlock couldn’t think of a single thing he would not let John do to him.

The doctor kept his explorations above the blanket. John tasted his way across Sherlock’s chest and bit teasingly along his collarbones before mouthing his way up Sherlock’s neck, lipping at his jaw before delicately brushing their lips together, “I want to kiss you, can I?” Sherlock answered by raising his head fractionally and catching John’s mouth with his. John’s groan was as deep and loud as Sherlock’s. It was incredible how kissing John felt natural and easy, as if John’s mouth was made to press against Sherlock’s, as if their tongues were meant to slide together and taste each other’s flavor.

John’s hands were gentle and they cupped Sherlock’s face as he peppered kisses everywhere, coming back to Sherlock’s mouth time and again, “You are as delicious as you are beautiful.” whispered John and Sherlock’s face became hot with an unseen blush. John thought he was beautiful. Sherlock couldn’t speak; he just kept making embarrassingly needy whines whenever John’s mouth left his for too long. John’s kisses began to grow rougher and deeper and it only made Sherlock want more.

Their chests were pressed together and Sherlock couldn’t help but recognize each part of John that touched him, the rasp of John’s chest hair against his skin, the faint drag of John’s nipples, the sturdy press of the soldier’s muscled body against his ribcage. John felt absolutely glorious. Sherlock realized his arms were twined about John’s neck and he was being kissed with something approaching ferocity. John’s mouth left his to nip and suck along Sherlock neck, below his ear, along his temple, all over before licking his way back into Sherlock’s kiss starved mouth.

Sherlock realized he was writhing a bit, his hips canting towards John. His erection rubbed almost painfully inside his clothes, the head almost too sensitive already. Sherlock couldn’t hide anymore, didn’t want to hide, not anymore, not when John was so clearly interested. Sherlock took John’s hand and pushed it downward, sliding it over his belly and directly onto Sherlock’s erection. His whole body arched back as John’s fingers instinctively wrapped around Sherlock’s length, “ _Jesus fuck Sherlock_!” said John with shock. His hand pulled away suddenly and John was just gone. Sherlock felt the rejection like a bucket of cold water. He heard the rustle of clothes and the sound of the zipper on John’s suitcase and realized John was getting dressed. He was going to leave! Sherlock was devastated and humiliated.

Suddenly John was back and he wasn’t dressed, far from it. John was entirely naked as Sherlock could clearly tell when John felt for Sherlock’s hand in the darkness and placed it over the doctor’s incredibly firm erection, “ _Oh my god John_!” John’s cock filled Sherlock’s hand. It was hot and thrusting up eagerly. John was uncircumcised and it felt heavy. Sherlock’s brain shut down momentarily as all the blood in his body tried to race toward his groin. John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock hard.

They were all over each other then. Sherlock followed John’s lead and kissed everywhere he could reach, tasting as much of John’s body as he could until John’s noises were as needy sounding as Sherlock’s. John’s nipples felt interesting in Sherlock’s mouth, his lips catching the tender nubs to tug and tease them while John nearly crushed his chest to Sherlock’s face. Sherlock ran his hands everywhere he could reach, finally cupping John’s behind in his hands and groaning with satisfaction at the sheer luxury of it.

John pushed away Sherlock’s bottoms and both of them let their hands roam. John’s body was hard and soft at the same time, Sherlock’s hands were hungry for more, rubbing and squeezing John’s flesh ecstatically as he learned how to make John’s voice crack a bit when he sighed. Their mouths stayed glued together for the most part as they tried to breathe each other in, their bodies rutting together with increased urgency. Sherlock’s cock grazed over John’s thigh, his hip, and his belly as they slide against each other in a frenzied bid for more friction. They both sounded desperate when John finally palmed Sherlock’s cock again and nearly growled. “Do you want this? Is this even something you want?” gasped John suddenly, breaking off their latest kiss and grinding his own erection against Sherlock’s hip.

“I want it. I want you John, god, how do you not know how _much_ I want you?” John’s answering barrage of kisses was almost feral but Sherlock welcomed it, even when his lips became tender and swollen from the violence of them.

“God yes, that’s what I needed to hear, I needed you to say yes. God Sherlock, I need…I need.” John voice was filled with urgency.

“Anything you want John, take anything.” John answered him by sitting astride Sherlock’s hip, their testicles nearly pressed tight. Oh god yes Sherlock’s dreams were coming true! They were going to…

“It’s fast. I know it’s fast but…” Sherlock felt something cool dribble onto his palm and understood John had poured out lube he had gotten from who knows where. Why did John have lube with him? “Slick it over yourself.” Sherlock did as he was told, hissing a bit at the coolness but as soon as he was done John was adjusting how he sat. Sherlock shuddered as he felt John’s testicles press gently against his once more, the root of their cocks close together, “Hold us.” John ordered and Sherlock obeyed. John and Sherlock both groaned as their cocks pressed together and Sherlock’s long fingers closed into a ring, “It’s fast, yeah, wanted to go so slow, so many things I want to do but fuck I _need_ this. Keep your hand there.” John’s voice was gruff and he rolled his hips.

The hard heat of John`s member pushed through Sherlock’s fist and stroked over the base of Sherlock`s then rode in a straight line from root to tip, “ _Oh my god John_!” Sherlock’s eyes rolled back, he’d never experienced anything like the firm slide of hard slick flesh against his cock. No toy he had every tried had ever given him even a portion of this kind of feeling. John’s cock was burning hot, and the soldier developed a rhythm quickly, fucking Sherlock’s fist and cock smoothly. It was so different with someone else in control of the pressure and pace, so very different to feel the texture of John’s cock, to have the flare of John’s corona glide up and down his shaft.

John was laying fully on Sherlock now and Sherlock`s free hand stroked up and down John`s body as if to sooth the man or perhaps himself. John buried his face in the crook of Sherlock`s neck to moan and pant, each heated gasp making Sherlock shake with want. John’s body twisted and writhed against Sherlock’s, making the pressure on his erection even greater. John’s body hair was making Sherlock’s skin almost over-sensitive in the most fantastic way. It felt so good to have John’s body on his, his weight and his heat grounding Sherlock, allowing him to feeling with even more intensity. Now he knew what John smelled like in full rut and the darkness had never seemed like such a blessing as Sherlock automatically filed away each and every moment, cherishing each sigh, each moan, each arch of John’s back or thrust of his hips. Sherlock might never get to enjoy this again, he needed to remember it all.

It was so good Sherlock wanted to weep from the intimacy of it. No one else could ever possibly offer Sherlock this except John! John was the only person in the world able to make Sherlock feel like this and there would never be anyone for Sherlock but his soldier. John had nipped at his neck at some point and the spot burned almost painfully and Sherlock liked counterpoint of sensation. Everything seemed to intensify, the world around them fading away and the only important thing was the way their bodies worked together, their heat and sweat mixing together as their bodies strained for culmination.

Sherlock’s free hand on the back of John’s neck while John arched his upper body up and braced himself with his fists on either side of Sherlock’s ribs, his hips rocking faster and faster, gyrating and pumping furiously enough to make the bed shake with them. “Sherlock, oh god Sherlock, I’m not going to last, I’m not going to…oh _GOD_!” The heat that had built and built now spilled over and made Sherlock`s nerves red-hot with almost painful twangs of ecstasy. Sherlock couldn’t answer John because he was locked in a rictus of overwhelming pleasure as he emptied himself over his own stomach. He felt John’s cock twitch against his, felt the hot liquid spill over his hand. It made Sherlock groan and shiver as his orgasm seemed to peak over and over again. His hand fell away from John’s neck as all his muscles went lax and Sherlock’s entire body simply hummed with delight. He’d never experienced such lightness of being. It was like he wasn’t even connected to his transport any longer and Sherlock didn’t care. It was too marvelous.

Sherlock roused himself sometime later when John began kissing his face all over, “You’re so beautiful, that was amazing, just amazing. You’re gorgeous, fantastic. That was perfect, just perfect.” John’s praises registered before he felt something warm and damp wiping his stomach. John had fetched warm flannels from the bathroom and was cleaning Sherlock up with delicacy and near reverence. Sherlock felt teary and affectionate. John left for a few minutes. When he returned he smelled like soap but his skin was still warmer than normal when he came back to bed and pulled Sherlock close to him. They didn’t say anything, simply laying on their sides facing each other in the dark.

Sherlock began first, just touching John in the darkness, letting his fingers trail over John’s skin without a destination, simply feeling him. John began to do the same, their fingers just curious now that the heat of passion had been damped. Eventually John urged Sherlock to lie on his back so John could rest his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and put his hand deliberately on Sherlock’s scar.

He was quiet for a moment but then softly said, “I need to know your heart is still beating. Twice now I thought it stopped forever…” John buried his face against Sherlock’s chest, “I can’t sleep properly unless I know.” Sherlock laid his fingers on top of John’s pressing the doctor’s hand firmly against his ribs so John could feel Sherlock’s heart beating strong and steady. John lay quietly for a long time, “Thank you.”

Sherlock said nothing but gathered the doctor as close as he could and hid his face against John’s hair, telling John silently a thousand times how much he loved him. When the case was over they would need to talk, Sherlock knew that now. Tonight wasn’t enough, it couldn’t be enough, not to last Sherlock’s entire life. He needed more and he would keep taking it for as long as John was willing to pretend along with him. After the case was solved Sherlock would need to confess his true feelings and John would be…John might be….Sherlock couldn’t bear to think of all the terrible things that John might be feel after learning the truth. John’s body slowly grew leaden and limp as he fell deeply asleep, his hand never moving from its place over Sherlock’s heart. When Sherlock could fight sleep no longer he kissed John’s forehead and whispered, “It will always beat for you John Watson.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orgasm achieved.


	12. Seeing Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have finally managed to bypass every obstacle!

 

Morning was almost surreal. Sherlock woke from dreams of John who was kissing him to the actual John who still sleeping. He nearly bolted from the bed when he recalled how he and John had gone to sleep. They’d had sex last night! Actual sex! There had been kissing _and_ bodily fluids, Sherlock remembered clearly. Sherlock wondered if that meant he wasn’t a virgin any longer. Was penetration required? How could he find out, should he just ask John? Did John even know that Sherlock had no prior experience? They’d never really discussed the issue. Sherlock looked down; he was entirely naked and hard as a rock. His body didn’t seem to care if it was experienced or not. John was limp against his back again, and like the other morning John’s cock was hardening fast. Unlike the other morning though John woke immediately and sensed Sherlock’s tension. “Shh…it’s alright. We’re alright.”

John’s hand snaked forward to stroke across his chest and throat and Sherlock melted back into the doctor. It was instantly both soothing and arousing, the touch of John enough to quiet Sherlock’s mind and make his worries irrelevant. John allowed his hand to begin to wander slowly but Sherlock had no patience and pushed John’s hand down exactly where he wanted it. Sherlock groaned softly as John’s fist closed over his cock and pumped it slowly, “Let me do this.” John said and Sherlock nodded. John let go and rolled away for a second. When he came back John showed him a small bottle of lube, “It’s always in my suitcase.” he explained with a small embarrassed laugh and Sherlock flushed bright red. “You know, we’re always rushing out of town for a case. I’d forgotten but I was glad last night.” John pressed his face against Sherlock’s back and kissed his way up his spine and neck. Sherlock exhaled raggedly because John’s mouth made Sherlock’s skin tingle. John’s voice was so gentle when he said, “Let me do everything Sherlock.” Sherlock said nothing but nodded again. He didn’t know what to do anyway, it was better if John just went ahead. John’s hips pulled away but he rolled back almost immediately, carefully arranging his now slick cock between Sherlock’s ass cheeks before taking Sherlock’s shaft back his hand. John kissed the back of Sherlock’s shoulder and whispered, “Just feel.”

Sherlock was undone instantly. John began to slowly slide his cock back and forth between Sherlock ass cheeks while pulling on Sherlock’s with long slow strokes with a slippery hand. Sherlock’s breath caught as each graze and push made him experience increasingly pleasurable rushes. It was awkward for the doctor so Sherlock batted John’s hand away and began to stroke himself, rocking his hips to encourage John. After a long minute John pushed away, “Get on your knees Sherlock. Bend over, ass in the air.” ordered the soldier and Sherlock obeyed, his face flaming, “Keep touching yourself.”

The position was extremely exposing and he wasn’t completely comfortable with that fact at first. Sherlock wasn’t ready for penetrative sex! It would hurt, he wasn’t prepared! For a moment fear rushed through him but John just went back to doing what he’d been doing, his cock sliding back and forth, his small strong hands squeezing Sherlock’s ass tight around his cock as he began to move with greater urgency. Oh! Oh that was very nice! Surprisingly nice! The angle increased Sherlock’s enjoyment of the act enormously so he closed his eyes and did as John asked, he just felt. He had no basis of comparison as John’s heavy width pistoned back and forth, John’s hips snapping occasionally as he grunted and sighed, clearly enjoying himself every bit as much as Sherlock was. Already Sherlock could feel the hot curl of pleasure building, making his hips tighten and his belly almost hurt.

“You’re so beautiful. This feels incredible.” sighed John, his hips working harder now. His hands kept squeezing Sherlock’s behind tight and Sherlock could feel John’s testicles swaying close to his. He groaned as he stroked himself with greater urgency, he needed to finish. There was too much at the same time, too much sensation, too much pleasure in unexpected places. Sherlock felt his toes curl up, his feet clench, his thighs tighten, his back grow stiff, and with an almost violent expelling of breath Sherlock was orgasming loudly. The moment the first cry left Sherlock’s mouth John followed him, “Oh god, oh god, fuck.” Sherlock felt John jerk roughly against him and felt a hot damp splash land on his lower back, shortly followed by a second, then a third. John moaned brokenly the entire time.

Sherlock couldn’t stay in position. He collapsed where he was, knees sliding out sideways until he was flat on the bed face down, spread wide open and sticky front and back. He couldn’t think, his mind was blank, all Sherlock could do was lay there and enjoy the euphoria while he caught his breath. John was sitting on his heels and panting loudly. It occurred to Sherlock that they’d had sex twice now and he still hadn’t seen John’s penis. Would John mind if Sherlock looked? “I want to see you.” Sherlock found his voice was weak and his throat was a bit rough feeling. Had he been shouting?

John chuckled softly and Sherlock felt hands rubbing his thighs and behind. “You can look at me all you want if you feel like joining me in the shower.” a shower sounded like absolute heaven but Sherlock’s transport was like a limp noodle and moved reluctantly. Sherlock was in uncharted territory now. He’d never shared a shower with anyone ever. Even back when he was pretending to date Janine she’d slipped into his bath but he hadn’t been in it with her! He’d been shaving at the sink…and…and….oh god John was so handsome!

John gotten out of bed and stood beside Sherlock naked and unashamed, holding his hand out to encourage Sherlock to rise with him. John’s skin was creamy white with golden undertones and Sherlock wanted to map every inch of it, to calculate the density of hair on his chest vs the hair on his legs or elsewhere, to catalogue each and every part of John Watson until Sherlock knew him inside and out, mind, body, and soul. Sherlock realized he was standing next to the doctor and being led by the hand and in a daze to the shower.

John was quick and efficient, washing himself down thoroughly but without dawdling while Sherlock swiped half-heartedly at himself with the soapy flannel John had also provided. Sherlock was filling his eyes and was only distantly aware that his transport was still interested in more sex with John if momentarily unable to do anything about it and yet was still giving it a fair go at attempting another erection so soon after orgasm. John was fascinating. Sherlock took in every inch of the soldier from the top of his head all the way down to his neatly trimmed toes.

John’s body was the most glorious thing Sherlock had ever witnessed. He knew most of John’s parts, his legs, his arms, his feet, and so much more. Now bared in front of Sherlock, under the water, completely comfortable in his intriguingly scarred skin, John Watson was being visually absorbed by Sherlock who had never taken this much time to read someone in his life and had no plans to blink any time soon as he soaked in as much information about John as he could.

Sherlock took in John’s dimensions, his mass, the way he was so strong and yet a persistent layer of softness covered his stomach. His pubic hair was dense and was linked to his chest hair by an intriguing trail of softer hair that narrowed to a width of only a few centimeters. Sherlock made a mental note to chart everything at a later date. “Are you just going to stare or are you going to wash?” John was smiling and talking to Sherlock but Sherlock was still taking in details like the fact that the scar on John’s shoulder had a small dimple right at the center and that the radiating scars from the wound and the many stitches made John’s scar look like a shining star in the van Gogh painting _Starry Night Over the Rhone_. Sherlock realized that he hadn’t answered John at all because he was using his mouth to map the scar. John chuckled again, “Alright then.”

John began to wash Sherlock while Sherlock indulged himself with exploring John’s body avidly. John was very accommodating, allowing Sherlock to lift his arms, or tilt his head, or turn him about, and took advantage of Sherlock who went down on his knees to examine John’s penis and testicles curiously by washing the detective’s hair while he was down there. John wasn’t diminutive but his pubic hair somewhat obscured the gently resting organ carefully hooded by John’s foreskin. Sherlock wanted to kiss the pouting tip but restrained himself and kept observing, taking in how John’s testicles descended from his body, and how John presented slightly to the left.

John finally made Sherlock stand up and Sherlock gasped in surprise when he felt John slip a very soapy washcloth between his thighs to wash the entire region front and back with thoroughness. John stood Sherlock under the spray to rinse him off and both of them were smiling and laughing softly by the time he was done, “Thank you John.”

“You’re welcome Sherlock. Let’s dry off before we get chilled.” It didn’t take long and Sherlock kept waiting for things to become awkward but it didn’t so he just kept going. John ordered breakfast in and Sherlock sealed their sample boxes shut and got ready to catch the train back to London. Both men dressed right in front of each other, not bothering with the previous discretion of using the bathroom, repacked their things and just got on with their day like normal. Once they’d eaten and checked that they’d retrieved all their possessions John sent off a farewell text to Cam and Bill, took Sherlock’s hand, and followed the porter and all their things down to the lobby. One cab ride later and they were ensconced on the train and trundling back home.

“That was a very fast honeymoon.” commented Sherlock idly as he read through the notes he’d taken. John was playing some kind of game on his phone and grunted noncommittally, “People will talk.”

“I’ve got to work tomorrow so you can blame it all on me. We’ll renew our vows sometime and go on a second one then,” said John absent-mindedly. “People will think we’re romantic.”

Sherlock smiled to himself and continued to review his notes. He was eager to begin testing samples for two reasons. One – he wanted to find the toxic honey he was positive existed. Two – the probability that more than a handful of samples were contaminated was very low which meant that Sherlock was currently in possession of nearly thirty kilos of pure honey that he’d gotten for free and that John didn’t eat. John preferred jam. Sherlock absolutely _loved_ honey. Sherlock couldn’t wait to get home to begin testing.

Before Sherlock knew it they were in London and loading their things into a taxi. The trip had flown by without Sherlock having been bored or irritated for a second. It was quite unlike him to have enjoyed traveling so much. John helped Sherlock cart everything up to their flat, though Sherlock took care to be the one who did the extra trip required because John’s shoulder needed minding and the doctor would never complain about how sore Sherlock knew it must be. He could tell though by how John’s back hunched forward ever so slightly, and how he held his elbow closer to his side than normal. Once they’d settled in with tea using hastily acquired milk from Mrs. Hudson who had known they would need some, Sherlock made John sit at the kitchen table with his shirt off so Sherlock could work on his arm and neck until John wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, “Better?” asked Sherlock softly.

“The best, thank you Sherlock. That kind of crept up on me.” Sherlock knew it had. John paid himself even less mind than Sherlock. The detective made a mental note to begin tracking John’s self-care regime to ensure the good doctor was taking proper care of himself, or, if lacking, that Sherlock would be aware in time to assist where required. He’d keep it quiet though because John didn’t like being fussed over, at least, he hadn’t cared for it when past girlfriends tried it. He still took a few moments to wipe away the massage oil so John could redress.

Sherlock set up his tests while John puttered around. Whenever they returned from a trip John always did the same thing. He’d roam around the flat, touching everything, tidying as he went. Sherlock smiled at John’s alpha behaviour as he reassured himself that his territory was unchallenged and that everything was in its place. Once John had completed his first round he proceeded with his chore list, another habit that made John Watson atypical. Not many flatmates took charge of cleaning everywhere and making sure all the laundry was done but John did so zealously, chiding Sherlock if he attempted it not that he tried very hard, but John liked things done a certain way and apparently found satisfaction in doing so. It suited them both to keep the arrangement as it was so Sherlock ignored the doctor who fluttered back and forth busily and got on with his own project.

Sherlock only had room to test so many samples at once so he commandeered the coffee table and their shared desk. John didn’t protest, merely shifting things around until Sherlock had the space he required. At one point he glanced at the clock on the wall and noted it was early in the evening so he went to his room and changed into his pajamas and robe before returning to the kitchen to keep working. He’d received a text from Molly stating that all her test results would be available in the morning. Perfect, he’d have something to do while John was at work. Sherlock realized John was talking to him, “I’ll be back in a few hours, you’ll text me if you need something, right?”

John was smiling up at Sherlock who wasn’t smiling back, “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I told you, I’m going out for drinks.” John was going out on a date? “See? You’re so busy you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

John was leaving him alone to go out with someone else. Sherlock noticed _that_ fact immediately. The detective couldn’t help but glance down. John was still wearing his ring, how would he explain that to his date? Jealousy roiled into life and Sherlock stared stonily at John, “With who?”

“Gladys from reception is retiring so they’ve thrown a little get-together for her at a club. Everyone is meeting in a short while. Did you want to come? You’d have to change.” Sherlock looked down. He was very comfortable and his samples were only half-done. He could stay here and finish uninterrupted. On the other hand there was no way in hell Sherlock was going to let John go anywhere that combined alcohol and other people who might potentially mistake John as being available when he was very, very taken. Sherlock had his own territory to protect and there was no arguing with that instinct.

“I can change easily enough if you actually want me to go with you.” Sherlock’s voice was a little cold, he couldn’t help it.

“Hurry up then, I’ll wait.” John was still smiling and his eyes looked strangely content. Sherlock felt soothed by the look on John’s face and did as asked, swiftly climbing into a very nice suit and putting on a thin and clinging white shirt. Let everyone see what they had to compete against to win John away. Carefully shaking his curls out Sherlock pulled on a coat and rejoined John, “Gorgeous as always, come on Sherlock.”

John didn’t hold his hand when they entered the club though he was laughing and chatting with the detective the whole time. When John stopped near a group of merry people Sherlock was firmly convinced he’d made the correct choice in attending. All the women and three of the men made a special effort to greet the doctor who seemed to know everyone by their first name. Sherlock eyes flickered over each one; seven were distinct risks, two of the men and five of the women. All of them fell into attraction categories that John favored and not one of them seemed to notice the ring on John’s finger. Sherlock barely managed to keep from growling out a warning when one of the men…Chael…asked John to join him for a drink alone, “No thanks mate, I’m with Sherlock.” John nodded his head at the detective, “Thanks though.”

Chael looked up at Sherlock who kept himself from glaring back, “Him? I thought that was your flatmate.”

“We share a flat yes.” said John, “We’ve lived together for years now off and on.” The other man looked disgruntled and moved along. Sherlock sidled slightly closer to John who was now being eyed by a pretty and plump redhead.

“Hi John! I’m glad you could make it, I’ve been dying to get a chance to get to know you better.” she smiled prettily up at John and Sherlock felt like pulling John right out of this horrible place and taking him back to Baker Street where it was just the two of them.

“Cassidy, good to see you, yeah Sherlock and I just got back from out of town just in time. It looks like everyone from the clinic is here!” John’s voice was affable and friendly.

Cassidy took this to mean she was welcome to step dangerously close to John, her smile flirtatious, “Would you join me for a quiet drink?”

“We haven’t said hello to everyone yet and I’m not sure how long we’re staying, but as soon as we’ve done the rounds I’ll find you.” said John and Sherlock nearly snarled. He was making a date with this woman?

Cassidy wasn’t smiling though and looked up at Sherlock who stared icily back at her, “Oh. Um. Alright John, I’ll chat with…both of you…later I guess.”

John was affable with everyone, introducing Sherlock but not lingering in any one place for very long. It still took a while to briefly visit with everyone so by the time John was done two hours had already gone by and John was giving their excuses, “I work in the morning unlike you lot, have fun tonight!” John waved at everyone and then led Sherlock away by the hand, their fingers laced firmly together. Sherlock hoped everyone behind them could see. John Watson was his and not anyone else’s. As soon as they got home Sherlock was going to ensure that John understood that fact clearly.


	13. Aware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have crossed a couple of physical boundaries with one another and have even begun to traverse some social ones. It seems to be going alright.

 

 

Sherlock understood that jealousy was an ignoble emotion, the main source of grief in most relationships because it implied a lack of trust on behalf of one or both partners. Sherlock trusted John. Sherlock trusted John with his life, with his very soul. John’s mettle had been tested again and again and he had survived the crucible the way no one else could.

Other people however…other people were rapacious dilettantes, poachers and the worst sort of predators. John’s goodness shone like a beacon in the murky depths of London, of course everyone was attracted to him like moths to the flame. Well! They’d need to get through Sherlock Holmes first! John was his! By the time they returned to the flat Sherlock had worked himself into a high temper. How dare John bring him someplace filled with idle flirtations toward clearly unavailable ex-army doctors?

He stormed up the stairs, nearly stomping on each of the seventeen steps until he practically burst through the door. Turning on his heel Sherlock faced John Watson, ready to make his displeasure known except John spun him neatly and pinned Sherlock to the door, kissing him until Sherlock’s knees gave out and John was bearing him up. “God you’re irresistible when you’re jealous.” sighed John, “You have no idea, no idea what this whole evening has been like. It’s been torture; I could not get out of there quickly enough.” John kissed Sherlock again.

Sherlock’s bad mood was entirely forgotten. John was clearly his and understood his place in the center of Sherlock’s universe. They were at home and John was in Sherlock’s arms right where he was supposed to be. “I wasn’t jealous. Why would I be?” lied Sherlock automatically but John only smiled and kissed Sherlock again until Sherlock was kissing him back feverishly.

“You’ve got no reason to be.” John was distracting Sherlock unfairly by biting his neck gently and though it felt a bit strange to have John’s teeth worry at his skin it also felt diabolically good.

Oh John was a dirty fighter! Well Sherlock wasn’t a weak-willed hormone addict. He pushed John away, “I’ve got samples to finish. Your puerile need for social contacts has seriously delayed my work.” he said, turning his back on John and attempting to stride to the kitchen. It turned out to be very difficult to walk away in a snit when your trousers were tented out ignominiously. Sherlock’s face turned scarlet. When had that happened?

John was the dirtiest of dirty fighters. He caught up to Sherlock at the doorway to the kitchen, pushing the taller man up against the frame and grinding his hips against Sherlock’s backside so the detective couldn’t miss the feel of John’s unmistakable arousal, “Alright. It’s late and I need to be up early. Try not to make a racket while I sleep.” John walked away and left Sherlock glaring furiously at his retreating back.

In three long steps Sherlock caught up to John, whirled him around and pinned him to the hallway wall. Without thinking of what he was doing Sherlock licked his way over John’s neck before finding a small spot that made John simply quiver in Sherlock’s arms. That spot became the recipient of the very first love-bite Sherlock had ever given, and John was nearly thrashing against Sherlock, crying out in high-pitched gasps. When it was furious and nearly purple Sherlock stopped, kissing it gently and pulling back. There was now a mark low on John’s neck where he could easily hide it from view but he’d know it was there. John’s face was flushed, his cheeks reddened, and his eyes so dilated they looked nearly black. Sherlock kissed his mouth with exquisite tenderness, “Sleep well John.”

John tottered away on shaky legs while Sherlock smirked. As Sherlock’s bedroom door closed Sherlock heard John’s voice. He sounded absolutely wrecked, “Fucking bastard!” Sherlock smirked again and went to work. He was in a good mood. The last several days had been very enjoyable. He had test results to review tomorrow and possibly a lot of honey to eat.

Sherlock stayed in the kitchen only long enough to realize that John Watson was lying in bed, probably still erect, and very very alone. Toxic honey abandoned Sherlock shed his clothes in a steady trail until he got to his room. John was already under the covers and his eyes were wide as he took in Sherlock’s naked form. They said nothing and Sherlock yanked away the duvet, pulled down John’s pajama bottoms wordlessly and straddled his hips. John seemed to find the lack of speech completely acceptable so Sherlock reached into his bedside drawer to pull out his lube. He showed it to John who blushed. Sherlock’s brain was already completely focused on reproducing the sensations of early that day.

John was hard and so was Sherlock. This time Sherlock made John hold them tight together while Sherlock rolled his hips. John was his, only his. He’d never let anyone have John like this ever again. He’d make it so John would never need to look for the insipid company of others, not for this. Sherlock was a genius. He’d figure out how to do absolutely everything that would make John wild, make John simply lust for Sherlock until there was no room in his head for voluptuous redheads or mewling male nurses with limp handshakes.

Sherlock watched John orgasm and it was the most gratifying sight he’d ever enjoyed. Sherlock’s own release was very satisfying but not draining the way his previous orgasms with John had been. John was completely out of it though and Sherlock’s satisfaction grew. As John simply fell asleep beneath him Sherlock removed himself gently from the bed and did John the same favor John had done him. Sherlock washed the mess off John’s body with delicacy, carefully pulling John’s pants back on but ignoring his pajama bottoms. After tucking John carefully under the duvet and kissing his face several times Sherlock shut off the bedroom light and left his soldier to rest.

Sherlock worked until John woke the next morning. “ _Jesus Christ Sherlock look at the size of this goddamn thing_!” John’s morning shout from the bathroom just made Sherlock smirk all over again. He knew it was juvenile to mark his lover but John hadn’t protested even a little bit at the time and now he’d be reminded all day long about exactly who he belonged to. They definitely needed to talk about this, to make things clear.

John scowled around the kitchen while he made himself breakfast and tea, pointedly not speaking to Sherlock who ignored the doctor’s ill humor. Sherlock could see the edge of his love bite above John’s collar, the doctor had tried his best to obscure it but there was nothing to be done now unless he planned to cover the bruise with an equally suspicious looking plaster. Sherlock was busy wrapping up the last of his tests. He’d need to look at the data Molly had gathered first so he got ready to spend the day at the morgue. Angry or not John still made Sherlock toast and tea, plunking the dishes down huffily. Sherlock maintained his silence.

John was getting ready to leave, his shoes already on and his coat shrugged into place. He was sticking his mobile in his pocket and turning the doorknob when Sherlock caught him up all over again. This time Sherlock was almost worshipful in his kisses. He placed them all over John’ s face before catching his mouth in the sweetest kiss he could manage. John’s eyes were soft when Sherlock finished by kissing the tip of John’s nose, “Have a good day at work John. I’ll be at the morgue.”

“God you are just so….” John heaved a sigh and kissed Sherlock quickly one last time, “Fine, I’ll meet you there after work, if you come home first, text me. I don’t want to stand there alone like an idiot.”

“I’ll keep you in touch.” promised Sherlock. It made the detective queasy knowing how upset John would get if he disappeared for days the way he used to do all the time. Those old games were now set aside. Sherlock owed John a lot for the years he’d left his friend to suffer in grief; he’d never strain John’s faith like that ever again. Sherlock kissed John one last time, making it full of promise, “To tide me over till later.” he breathed and John sighed shakily once more.

“You really are a bastard Sherlock Holmes.” said the doctor but his eyes were still soft and a little moist. John brushed his thumb quickly over Sherlock’s bottom lip before turning and firmly leaving the flat.

Well there was no way Sherlock was going to function properly at the morgue without taking care of some things. Sherlock locked the flat up tight and closed himself into his room. He ignored his toys, kneeling on his bed and simply recalling everything he’d done with John. His lube slicked hand wasn’t what he wanted but it was what he had at the moment, and all he needed as he recalled all the many details he’d added to his new room. In only a few short minutes Sherlock was shuddering his way through a stress-relieving but unsatisfying orgasm. It wasn’t the same without John. With a weary sigh Sherlock accepted that John had ruined him.

Sherlock washed up thoroughly and after dressing in the most sober clothes he owned he went to the morgue to meet up with Molly. She smiled and leaned in close all through the morning, and even in the afternoon when Sherlock was going over the corpses of the victims she kept standing close and trying to engage him in small-talk. Sherlock did his best to both remain polite to Molly because John had told him several times that he had to, and to focus on his research which she kept distracting him from with her chatter. By the time he’d gotten to the fifth body she was mere inches away, occasionally toying with her hair as she fluttered her lashes coyly at him. Sherlock was irritated when she finally worked up the courage to lay her hand on his arm, “If you’re not doing anything I’ve got a lovely slide-show of abnormal brain development, we could watch it in my office, maybe with some coffee?”

“Sherlock,” John was standing in the doorway and he didn’t look very happy, “Making a date?” asked John, his voice pleasant and friendly but all the softness that had been in his eyes this morning was completely gone.

“John, oh… _no_ ….not a _date_ …I just…well he likes abnormalities so I…I was only…” Molly’s face was crimson, “We just had a lovely day and I thought…well…I..um.” The room became frigid as John radiated ice cold anger from all the way across the room, “Well it’s the end of my shift I have paperwork to finish I’ll see you sometime Sherlock. _And John_! I’ll see you both later Sherlock _and_ John.”

Molly scuttled away and John walked over to Sherlock, standing beside him, “A lovely day. So. You had a _lovely day_ with Molly.” said John in clipped syllables. Sherlock looked at John. The soldier was tense and very angry. Sherlock was mystified for a moment and then his brow cleared. So, he wasn’t the only one susceptible to the green-eyed monster. This was heartening news indeed.

“Oh yes. It’s so much more convenient when you have a professional available for _hands-on_ assistance. Molly is invaluable.” Sherlock kept his expression neutral as he packed up the new samples he was taking home and closing down his laptop. The silence was the first clue Sherlock received that teasing a jealous John Watson was not a wise thing to do. The doctor was standing there stock still and pale, “John?”

“Molly is _invaluable_ for her hands-on assistance.” said John and his voice was hollow. “That’s fine. That’s just fine.” John turned on his heel and walked away. “I’ll see you after your date then.”

“John!” how did Sherlock’s voice sound so full of apology and pleading? Sherlock left everything he’d been packing up and caught up to John just as he was pushing his way out the morgue doors, “John stop. Don’t. Please don’t.” Sherlock didn’t know what he was asking for but John stopped walking away, “Our lovely day was only lovely because you made me promise not to be so mean to Doctor Hooper. She’s taken my change of behavior to signify an apparent interest in her, an interest that I _do not_ have. I don’t want to spend time with Molly. I only like to spend time with my best friend and as far as I know my best friend is still _you_.”

John still looked very upset but he still nodded, “Get your things then. I’d like to get home unless there’s something to do for the case.”

“It will be just a minute John.” Sherlock didn’t like the look on John’s face so he leaned down and kissed John tenderly but for some reason it made John’s face look even more miserable. Sherlock was confused. He’d apologized for teasing hadn’t he? Had he unintentionally said something untoward? It did happen a great deal but when Sherlock went over their dialogue in his mind he couldn’t pinpoint anything he’d said that should have made John react this way. Sherlock felt his chest constrict a bit. Maybe the kiss had been a bad idea? Was it because they were at St. Bart’s? He worried as he packed up as quickly as he could to keep John waiting as little as possible. “I’m ready.”

John nodded sharply and walked out first, holding the door for Sherlock but not taking the detective’s hand. Sherlock’s heart sank a bit more. There was something amiss. Something had happened during their brief exchange that had affected the doctor profoundly but Sherlock simply could not see what it could have been. John didn’t speak to him at all on the trip home though he did help Sherlock carry all his things up to their flat.

Once they were home John remained silent though he made them tea and began to cook dinner. His heart clearly wasn’t in the activity and in the end John ended up simply frying up grilled cheese sandwiches and making a small salad to go with them. When Sherlock thanked him for dinner John just nodded and began to clean up. He was pointedly not speaking to Sherlock, obviously very upset about something but he was giving Sherlock no further clues to help the detective sort out the problem. When John finished washing the dishes Sherlock’s nerve broke, “John what’s wrong? What have I done?”

John shook his head and looked at Sherlock a bit sadly, “You didn’t do anything Sherlock. I’m just having an off day.” That wasn’t it and Sherlock knew it. Something about what they’d said at the morgue deeply troubled the doctor. “I’m tired. I’m just going to turn in.”

“Very well John.” said Sherlock weakly. It was barely nine. John didn’t normally turn in until at least eleven. Sherlock’s heart clenched into an icy fist when John bypassed his bedroom and climbed the stairs, John wasn’t going to sleep with Sherlock tonight!

Sherlock looked at the kitchen sink. John’s wedding band was on the counter. Anxiety soared. Sherlock couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He stood at the bottom of John’s staircase and looked up. He wanted to go to John, to wrap himself around the doctor, to beg for understanding but he didn’t. John wanted to be alone. Sherlock heard the lock on John’s door click closed and his heart simply shattered. What had gone wrong? Was it over? Were they over?

Sherlock tried to work but he couldn’t focus. John’s wedding band screamed at him from the counter and Sherlock couldn’t bear to see it. He wanted to move it, to hide it away so he didn’t have to see the symbol of his failure to even fake a marriage. He was useless as a human being! Sherlock couldn’t make himself touch it. Feeling sick to his stomach Sherlock left the ring where it was and went to bed.

It was horrible. The bed smelled of John but John wasn’t there. John might not come back there and Sherlock didn’t even know why. Sherlock hugged John’s pillow, burying his face in the fabric to take in as much of the doctor’s scent as he could. He couldn’t sleep. He lay there in the dark wide-eyed and heartsick.

At three in the morning Sherlock heard the stairs from John’s room creak. Sherlock wiped away the tears he hadn’t realized were in his eyes and watched his door swing open slowly. John was standing there and he looked awful. His eyes were red and he looked puffy. Had John been crying? Why? What happened! Had something happened to John, something that had nothing to do with Sherlock. Had he missed some obvious clue? “John? John please tell me what’s wrong.”

“We need to talk Sherlock.” John’s voice was filled with pain, “Sherlock. Sherlock I can’t do this anymore. We have to stop.”

Sherlock looked over at the doctor and felt his entire existence fall to pieces. So this was how the world ends. This was the end of reality for Sherlock Holmes. John was ending it. Sherlock didn’t feel himself get up but he was on his knees in front of John in an instant, “No.”

“We have to Sherlock. I’ve made a terrible mistake because I thought something that wasn’t true and now that I know that it’s not I…I have to stop this Sherlock. I can’t keep doing whatever this is we’re doing with each other.” John’s face was terrible to behold. He looked as shattered as Sherlock felt.

“John _no_. Tell me. Explain to me _exactly_ what it is that you thought was true. Please. Please tell me John. Don’t end this and leave me not knowing _why_.” Sherlock stayed on his knees ready to take John down if the soldier tried to leave.

John looked bitter for a second, “What you said about Molly being invaluable. It’s what you do isn’t it. Flirt and tease to get what you want. That’s what you’ve been doing with me. You needed something for a case so you took it from me. I was a fool who thought it meant that you felt something for me but it was always just for the case right? Everything we’ve done, everything we’ve shared, it’s always for a case, for the work. I’m no better than Molly to you. I’m just a resource you utilize.”

Sherlock was going to be physically ill, “John. Stop. Don’t. Please _don’t_. Never think that. _Don’t ever think that_! John!” Sherlock bent his head and nearly wept with the horror of John’s perceptions, “John Watson, I would never use you like that. I could never. You are the most important person I know, the only person I know who has my respect and admiration at all times.” Sherlock had to gather himself together, “I would _never_ use you in such a manner John. You are too important to me. You mean too much to me to ever consider treating you so hurtfully. In the time you have gifted me with your friendship I have learned more about being human than I have in all the years before that. You’ve been the one to bring out what little good there is in me and I am not unaware of my short-comings. John, John I could never think of treating you in such a vile way.”

“Sherlock, what are you saying?” John’s face had cleared and he was looking down at the detective with intensity.

Sherlock looked up so he could see John’s lovely blue eyes clearly, “I’m saying that I love you John. I’m saying that I don’t want you to end things between us no matter how they began because I feel that if you leave me I won’t survive it. I need you John, I love you. Please. I’m begging you John. Don’t end us, don’t end this. Please, please don’t do it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He told him! Oh god!


	14. On My Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has thrown all his chips on the table. Now it's all up to John.

 

Sherlock Holmes was a master of observation, a talent which had served him well time and time again, earning him a career and a reputation that had few if any remaining challengers. Unfortunately it also meant that right at the most crucial moment of his life Sherlock noticed that his left knee was directly atop the seam for two pieces of flooring that made a beautiful pattern but were painfully digging into his unpadded patella. This was the worst time in the world to be distracted by something as infuriating as being poked in the knee by boards. Sherlock didn’t want his wretched knees to be the focus of this memory! Sherlock was on those same knees and literally begging John to give them a chance. Everything could be over or everything could be beginning, there was no way to tell until John made a declarative statement of some sort. The doctor hadn’t responded and it had been more than a minute now. Sherlock’s knee was really beginning to hurt but the detective was resolved to remain where he was until John either stayed with him forever or left him to die on the floor.

Sixty seconds was a long time for someone like Sherlock Holmes and each second that followed was hell. It was time enough for him to foresee a thousand different lonely lives he could live, all of them brief, if John did not love him back. There was no way for Sherlock to predict the intensity of John’s emotions; the scientist could only examine how he himself felt and he was total pants at doing even that. Sherlock could only stay on his now sore knees and pray to an assortment of gods from both the north and south hemispheres (just in case). He’d just made his way to Tiamat, a primordial Mesopotamian sea goddess he rather liked because he’d wanted to be a pirate when he was a child when John slid down to the floor abruptly and sat on his bum to stare at Sherlock. The face which had held no expression for the entire eternity the silence had lasted was now filled with the same expression that John had on the first time he’d called Sherlock amazing except a thousand times more intense. John finally opened his mouth and said, “You what?”

“I love you John. I didn’t really understand what it was I was feeling but once I did I discovered that I’ve actually been in love with you for a fairly long time.” Sherlock discreetly adjusted his knee and almost sighed with relief when the annoying pressure was gone. He wasn’t sure if he should say more because John was just staring and not saying or doing anything. Sherlock now wished he’d watched some of the rom-coms John secretly enjoyed just to get an understanding about how to proceed with the winning of John’s heart or at least the salvaging of their friendship. Sherlock’s heart was racing still but not in the sick way it had done just a short while ago. John hadn’t left directly and that was good.

“What makes you think you love me?” John’s face was grave, his brows turned up in the middle in the way that let Sherlock know that John was feeling very strongly about something but he needed facts. Sherlock could do that.

Sherlock looked directly at John, their eyes boring into one another’s and Sherlock’s voice was soft and solemn, “You make me quiet inside. The noise, the impulses, all of it, all of it goes silent when I’m with you. I am content where contentment has never been a state I have enjoyed in my life. I feel better when you are happy. I am disturbed when you are upset. I am never bored when we’re together. You have always managed to engage my interest. You make me laugh when laughing is not something I do. You make me feel things and you make me feel alright for feeling those things. It’s not a disadvantage, not at all. I am physically repelled by people yet but I cannot get close enough to you, I’m too far from you right now. You are the first person I want to share things with when life is good and the only one I want to call when things are bad. Of all things of importance to me you are paramount and I believe this to mean I love you. I love you more than I love the Work. If you needed me to I would walk away from the Work right now and I would not regret the exchange.”

“Is this an experiment?” anyone else would have been offended but every single question John asked was a moment more he was spending with Sherlock and for that Sherlock would speak until he was unable to utter another word.

“No John it is not, I swear, though I understand how my giving my word is hardly the best testament. I willingly admit I have shamefully abused your trust in the past and that you have no reason whatsoever to believe what I say to be true. I am also very willing to do anything you name in order to earn your trust back.” Sherlock felt very hopeful because John’s eyes had that soft look once more and his mouth was doing a strange frown smile combination.

“What if I asked you to give up all your free honey?” said John with a serious look. Sherlock had already spent some time rearranging the cupboards to accommodate his incoming treasure trove.

Sherlock didn’t hesitate, “After ascertaining its safety it would be simple enough to distribute the honey around to several soup kitchens I know of. Mrs. Hudson would want some for baking with of course. The last of my tests are nearly done, I could do it first thing in the morning if you wanted.” Honey or John was hardly a difficult choice. There were billions of bees but only one John. Anyway, his tests had all come up negative. The last twenty samples wouldn’t be ready for hours yet. Sherlock tried to keep himself in check but that tiny flare of hope was persistent and growing bigger. John had his hands covering his face now, his knees drawn up to his chest, “John?”

“Are you sure?” John’s voice was gruff and Sherlock knew John wasn’t asking about honey redistribution. His heart began to beat a little faster and his chest was tight.

“I’m absolutely sure.” Sherlock had never been more certain of something. There were facts that were irrefutable, corner-stone knowledge that provided the foundations for everything that came after it and that was John to Sherlock. Without John Sherlock would not even be here, without John Sherlock would have guttered out years ago. John was Sherlock’s entire reason for continuing on in a world that had not seemed to care if Sherlock Holmes was in it.

“There’s no margin for error here. Either you do or you don’t there’s no in-between and no mind-changing after, do you understand what that means Sherlock?” John had removed his hands from his face and his eyes were red again but still soft so the flame of hope grew that much brighter.

“Yes John. It means I love you forever and I never stop no matter what. I don’t think you have to worry though because I’ve been doing it for a while now without even trying. It’s actually gotten worse since I found out.” John’s face was mostly smiling now and that encouraged that hopeful flame even more. Sherlock dared to lean forward just the tiniest amount, “John?”

John looked at Sherlock and the softness receded a bit and his voice was still a bit gruff but firm when John said, “I want to start over.”

“What?”

“We’ve been pretending all this time. I want to start over and do it properly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sherlock Holmes would you like to go out with me?”

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Yes I am.”

“Yes I would.”

“Well there we are then.”

“I’m not sure what to do now.”

“I know you don’t. Let’s get up off the floor. My behind is flat now.” Sherlock was grateful to get off the hard floor; both his knees hurt despite how he’d shifted and John made little adorable grunting sounds as he pushed himself up before taking Sherlock’s eagerly extended hand.

“John I just want you to know I’m very happy right now.” Sherlock was. He was nearly trembling with it. He wanted to express it somehow but he was uncertain. They’d only been officially dating for half a minute and he wasn’t sure what the rules were. Still Sherlock decided the shift in their relationship was all about feelings and John would appreciate knowing about how he positively affected his lover. He was right. John’s smile was wonderfully warm and the softness in his eyes spread everywhere until Sherlock couldn’t stop himself and had to hug John as tightly as he could. John didn’t object. “You could have left.”

“No I don’t think I could have Sherlock. It was tearing me up thinking that I might have to.” John’s arms hurt Sherlock’s ribs wonderfully as the soldier squeezed Sherlock as hard as he could. Sherlock’s arms were squeezing John right back and he kissed the top of John’s head for good measure. When they let each other go John reached up and brushed his thumb across Sherlock’s bottom lip and Sherlock enjoyed it as much as he had the first time John had done so. John’s eyes were almost liquid with that new softness that Sherlock liked to see and the doctor was smiling and confessed, “I’ve been faking our marriage in a not-faking it kind of way.”

Sherlock felt like his face would never recover from the amount of smiling it was trying to do. Really his transport was endlessly demanding! It wanted all sorts of things from John right then, “I was too.”

“I see that now. We’re both idiots.” John could call Sherlock names all day, he didn’t care. John was now Sherlock’s boyfriend and knew that Sherlock loved him. “Sherlock?”

“Yes John?”

John kissed Sherlock very gently several times. Sherlock felt his heart swell up and a strange pressure build up behind his eyes and high in his throat. John had his hands on Sherlock’s neck and cheek, his thumbs caressing all the skin they could reach as John kissed him so sweetly that Sherlock’s toes actually curled a bit and he found that his fingers had knotted into the collar of John’s robe. John ended the kiss slowly and they held their mouths together for a long moment, almost not touching, both their eyes closed as they just stood there in the near darkness and breathed, “I love you.” said John and Sherlock couldn’t breathe anymore.

Sherlock felt stunned, overwhelmed with delight, overcome with joy, and since his brain didn’t function under these circumstances Sherlock allowed his transport to take charge of matters. Sherlock found that he’d pulled the doctor backward until they tumbled onto the bed so he could squeeze John with his arms and legs at the same time, kissing every bit of John he could reach and nearly gasping for air. Sherlock wanted to say something profound, something meaningful, something that would resonate with monumental impact to signify the miracle of what was happening but only one syllable encompassed that much meaning, “John.”

“I do, I love you Sherlock.” Sherlock nodded and kissed John again before holding him tightly. “It’s been a long time coming Sherlock, I want to do things right with you.”

“Anything you’d like John, you know that. Ask for anything.” Sherlock would move mountains for John, he’d go to any extreme for John. Sherlock braced himself for the first request John would make of him as his new boyfriend, “What would you like?”

“Let me take you on a date.”

Sherlock’s face went pink and he bit his bottom lip before answering, “That would be lovely John.”

“Tonight then, after I get back from work. I’ll take you to dinner, a proper date.” It was now four in the morning. John needed rest if they were going on a date. He’d only get in a few hours before his half-shift began.

“Tonight then John,” Sherlock hesitated, “Would you sleep here? Just sleep?”

“God yes, I’m absolutely wrecked now. Are you sure though? This has all been pretty big. I feel a bit odd about wanting to go to sleep.” John was exhausted; you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to observe the dark circles under his eyes. The doctor required nearly three times as much sleep as Sherlock did.

“I really don’t mind John, if you don’t mind me just holding you. I’m not sure if I’m able to sleep just yet.” Sherlock needed to absorb everything that had just happened. His emotions had experienced huge extremes and they weren’t used to that. He’d barely taken them out of the box and tried them on so Sherlock would also appreciate some quiet time but he still needed to be next to John. This would be ideal.

“That sounds perfect actually. My bed is the worst.” John would be sleeping in Sherlock’s bed from now on if Sherlock had anything to say about it. They took a few minutes to use the loo before climbing into bed, all shy faces and happy smiles. John cuddled right up and Sherlock sighed, deeply contented as John’s hand settled on his chest right where it belonged. Sherlock stroked John’s back in long languid sweeps until his doctor drifted off. Sherlock lay in the darkness just being happy and listening to the different ways John breathed in his sleep, all the little sounds he made, the restless shifting and twitching that sent the soldier’s hand questing or his leg nudging up. Sherlock found that the only thing that stilled John was Sherlock’s bared skin. John’s hand had found its way beneath Sherlock’s top and now the limb was completely unmoving.

Sherlock slid carefully out of bed and stripped down to his pants. He climbed back in and gathered the doctor close one more. John was stiff for a second then suddenly it was as if his entire body relaxed simultaneously and he sagged against the detective, limp and unmoving, deeply asleep and resting peacefully. Sherlock smiled up to the ceiling and closed his eyes, counting John’s slow deep breathes and their tandem heartbeats.

Sherlock awoke in bed alone. He was still smiling. The pillow beside him was cold but there was a note on it, “Tonight” it read and there was a little heart drawn in the corner. Sherlock curled up into a little ball and hugged himself before checking the clock. He still had six hours before John came home and that would be just enough time to get ready for their very first official date.

Sherlock had to get ready.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brief and low on smut. That's okay though because I swear I'll make up the lack because they're going on a date.  
> A real one.  
> Finally.


	15. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have finally sorted out a very important matter and now it's time to enjoy the results.

 

 

The first thing Sherlock noticed was that John’s ring was gone from the counter. He had to hug himself again before he could make tea. His own ring was still firmly on his finger and Sherlock even made himself toast to celebrate. He’d need the energy today; he had a lot to do. Breakfast completed and day clothes selected Sherlock went over his samples and found seven with uncertain results but he wasn’t dismayed. He set aside all the other containers in the cupboard for safe storage, prepared several different samples of each type of honey, put the questionable honey in a box and taped it shut, then took himself to the morgue to drop the samples off for testing there as well as two other facilities. There was only so much you could do in a kitchen lab mostly equipped with just a microscope but absolutely nothing could put a dent in Sherlock’s good mood and the fact that Molly hadn’t been on that shift was just a bonus.

Sherlock went directly back home. Hanging up his coat Sherlock rolled up his shirt-sleeves and got to work. He stripped the bed completely and made it up again with the nicest sheets he owned, then brought in the hoover and got rid of his dust collection, even wiping down the mirrors and wardrobe until the room was no longer hazy. John never complained about Sherlock’s room but it was logical to make it as inviting as possible if he wanted to retain John as his lover and he did.

He dropped the soiled linens off in the basement suite to wash as soon as he could find Mrs. Hudson and get her to show him how to use the machines. A brief search found her at Speedy’s and a small lecture and two tubs of honey later had Sherlock washing the first load before returning to the flat to continue. Mrs. Hudson had taken the opportunity to inform Sherlock that she’d taken up meditation after she had her evening herbal soother and was now sleeping to the soothing sounds of a white-noise machine and for some reason ear-plugs. “I’ll have it all on extra-loud every single night so I won’t be able to hear you if you need something. You’ll have to come knock on my door.” she stressed before promising to bring up a treat she could now make since she had so much honey.

Since dessert was on the way Sherlock cleaned everything he didn’t recognize out of the fridge. He’d told John some of the containers were experiments but really they were just things Sherlock had forgotten about that had begun to decompose despite their cold environment. He binned everything that looked questionable or that might have been contaminated and even scrubbed the sticky surfaces everywhere until their fridge was fit to eat out of. It was also very empty.

Sherlock attacked their kitchen table with the same diligence. The microscope went into its cupboard where it rarely lived and Sherlock put away everything else before scraping off the remnants of several different projects and scouring the table until even Mycroft would deign to sit at it. The pickled pig fetus went into the old broom closet to sit beside a shrunken head, a photo collection of animals born with extra appendages or other oddities, an x-ray of a man’s foot with seven toes, a grim book printed on vellum made from human skin, a collection of hairwork jewelry (mostly brooches but there was one that was a complete necklace), and other peculiar objects that Sherlock had been given by clients or acquired on his own including his harpoon. John refused to let Sherlock display them but he had used his remarkable carpentry skills to refit the broom closet to contain everything, even installing shallow shelves on the door for the smaller collectibles. Once the table was shining dully Sherlock stood back and admired his handiwork. These were the two things John complained about most when he got upset with Sherlock and now he had nothing to be upset about. Sherlock hoped John would be pleased.

Sherlock put his coat back on and went to the shops. He got fresh milk for John’s tea, a new loaf of bread for toast, butter to go with it, and a small selection of fruits and cheeses. Getting cheese meant getting wine and Sherlock couldn’t decide and ended up getting three different bottles, two white and one red. After those were safely back in Baker Street Sherlock went to the chemists and via the assistance of a very red-faced shop girl Sherlock acquired a new razor, bubble bath, moisturizing lotion, as well as a plethora of other beauty aid items that were apparently very necessary for date preparation. He was very clear about his motivations and apparently that was too much information for the young woman.

Sherlock checked the clock. Two hours remaining. Chores were done; shopping was in, the laundry was mostly done so he raced downstairs to shove everything in the dryer, even remembering the little white sheet Mrs. Hudson insisted be used. Once their living environment had been somewhat tamed Sherlock was in full date preparation mode.

He showered and then he took a bath. He reasoned that he should be as clean as possible but sitting in his own scrubbed-off epithelia didn’t make sense. After taking a twenty minute soak which was the recommended bath length according to the back of the bottle he did feel softer and a bit tingly so Sherlock decided the bath had been a good choice. Sherlock read the bottle of the skin moisturizer. It smelled very nice but Sherlock had a last minute suspicion. He rubbed some into the back of his hand, waited five minutes and then licked it. After requiring a toothbrush and mouthwash he put on his robe, went downstairs and gave it to Mrs. Hudson. What was the point of extra soft skin if you tasted foul? At any rate John had already said he thought Sherlock’s skin was soft but you couldn’t be too prepared and it had been worth the attempt. The next time he tried something like that he’d taste the product at the shop instead of buying it first.

He combed his hair and Sherlock’s hair fought back. It did that sometimes, he’d always meant to track humidity levels and see if it correlated to sentience in follicles. His hair was not cooperating. For some reason it insisted on flopping over his forehead in a fringe that broke into jagged curls that poked everywhere. Finally after brushing and combing it until it ended up massive and waving around his head like crazed sea anemone Sherlock wet his hair down heavily, towelled it off roughly and quit the bathroom, letting it dry however it wanted.

Sherlock went to his bedroom and had to spend a minute just leaning up against the door being pleased. He was silly with it and he knew it. He felt so different. He was so incredibly happy that he simply didn’t know what to do with himself. He needed to dress. John would be home soon. Sherlock hung his bathrobe up and stood in front of his wardrobe to mull things over. He wanted to keep it as simple as possible. Sherlock found a coat near the back. It was dark blue, almost black and he smiled when he saw it. After that the choices were easy and he dressed quickly. He didn’t have the original shirt any longer but he had another white shirt he knew John had appreciated and used that instead before pulling on the coat. It still fit, though snugly, a testament to John’s good influence, “Sherlock?” John was home early.

“In here.” Sherlock couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face when John’s face appeared in the bedroom doorway. The doctor looked weary and a bit frazzled but his eyes instantly assumed that look Sherlock now understood was for him. He was wearing the dark trousers he favored for the clinic and a comfortably knobbly cardigan. Sherlock noted the gleam of the ring on John’s finger and couldn’t help but touch his with his finger, “Welcome home John.”

“You look gorgeous. That’s the same jacket from the day we met.” Sherlock blushed at the compliment, cutting his eyes away for a second before he nodded, “My favorite.” Sherlock took in John, his arm was tucked against his side again and he was leaning against the door more to relieve pressure on his leg than to relax. He’d had a stressful shift, combined with the emotional drain of the last twenty-four hours; John was sore and almost twitchy with exhaustion.

Sherlock made a decision, “I’d like to stay in tonight.”

“What? No. I wanted to take you on a date.” Gamely John stood straight and tried to look alert.

“We can still have our date, but we can have it here.” Sherlock took the few steps that separated them and ran his hand gently over John’s shoulder and John knew Sherlock saw the wince he tried to supress, “I’d really rather John.”

“I was going to take you to Angelo’s.” John was still arguing and Sherlock nearly tsked at the doctor.

“We can order in if you really want but I did pick up a few things today. You can take me out another night. Tonight I’d like to not share you with anyone.” That wasn’t a lie. The more Sherlock thought about it the better the idea sounded to him. They could relax here, let nature take its course, and not worry about being in public when Sherlock’s transport decided to get in touch with its more animal nature. More importantly though Sherlock could take care of his doctor, John clearly needed it. “Go get into your robe John. I’ll run you a hot bath.”

John stopped fighting it, nodding tiredly and plodding upstairs to change into his robe. Sherlock decided to approach John about possibly bringing his clothes downstairs. It seemed odd to keep them upstairs alone when John would hopefully be spending all his horizontal time in Sherlock’s room. Sherlock went to the bathroom and filled the tub with the warmest water John would be able to tolerate and then dumped in a bit of everything he’d gotten for himself. John would be soothed by salts, oils, and little dissolving animal shaped beads the girl at the shop had assured him had homeopathic calming qualities. The bubbles ended up being rather colorful but perhaps John would enjoy that too.

He was just shutting the taps off when John joined him, “It smells like a lady’s boudoir in here.” John paused before he stepped up to Sherlock and kissed him lightly, “I should have done that as soon as I got back.”

Sherlock realized that there were all sorts of couple activities that they could be doing. Kissing each other hello and goodbye was practically mandatory! To make up for not getting a goodbye kiss that morning Sherlock bent down and kissed John back, “Hello John. Your bath is ready.”

“Sherlock are you sure you don’t want to go out?” Sherlock rolled his eyes and tugged the robe off of John’s shoulders, restraining the urge to reach down and cup his hands over John’s privates and indulge in some….okay…John was hurting right now and this wasn’t the time to think about how perky his behind was, or how lovely his cock was when it was supine, or how even when his brow was wrinkled in pain John looked kissable. Sherlock kissed him again, encouraging John to deepen the kiss for a moment or two. He wasn’t a saint and John was standing naked right in front of him, “Okay staying in sounds good.”

“Very well John, if you insist. Get in before it cools too much.” Sherlock helped a groaning John get into the tub, letting him sink down slowly until John was practically lying down, “You are so lucky.”

“What, why?” John’s eyes were closed. Sherlock removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, took a folded towel and placed it by the tub. Kneeling on it he began to carefully work the knot out of John’s shoulder.

“Your height. You can enjoy the bath the way I never can. When I take a bath I can only get parts of myself into the water.” John was absolutely the loveliest man Sherlock had ever seen and he let his eyes wander freely.

“You like the fact that I’m short?” John sounded disbelieving.

“You are not short John. You are seven centimeters too tall to be considered short.”

“You’re fourteen centimeters taller than I am.”

“I maintain that Mycroft put me on a rack as a child and stretched me out. It’s not my fault.” John laughed and Sherlock, “It explains why my arms and legs are disproportionately long for my torso. You are perfectly proportioned; you shouldn’t make fun of me for my deformities.”

John rolled his eyes, “You aren’t deformed Sherlock. Your arms and legs are exactly the right length for your body. I know. I’m a doctor and I’ve examined you thoroughly very recently. ” Sherlock chuckled but wasn’t swayed from his task. John’s arm was playing up and by the time Sherlock was done the water had cooled. John needed help getting out but he looked much better.

“Your back is sore. Come lay down.” Sherlock fetched some clean towels and laid them on the bed so John could stretch out face down. Sherlock retrieved the massage oil he’d gotten for John’s shoulder, quickly stripped off his clothes except for his pants and sat astride John’s thighs to work on his back.

“You’re supposed to have dinner before you take me to bed. I’m going to come off looking easy.” said John who already sounded almost unconscious.

“You worked in emergency today. You wrenched your shoulder lifting someone. Everyone was too busy to notice.” John sighed and didn’t say anything so Sherlock just worked his fingers up and down John’s back to relieve the tension and sooth the strained muscles until John was audibly snoring. Sherlock smiled, wiped the excess oil off and draped an extra blanket over John. Sherlock didn’t bother redressing, he just put on his pajamas and robe. There was a tap at the door and Mrs. Hudson cooed her way in, “It turned out just lovely. Look Sherlock.” she showed him a gloriously sticky baked dessert that was redolent with spices, “Mrs. Turner and I have been taking classes.” she said as she brought it to the kitchen.

“What sorts of classes.” small talk was a small price to pay for Mrs. Hudson’s baking.

“Online. You can learn all sorts of things off the internet, it’s just wonderful. We take community classes too. We’ve done pottery, origami, we’ve been trying cookery too. I’ve got a listing if you want to see it.” Mrs. Hudson looked at the stack of honey on the counter. Even with rearranging things there hadn’t been enough room in the cupboard for all of it, “My goodness.”

“It’s lovely isn’t it?”

“It’s rather a lot; whatever are you going to do with it?”

“I’ll have to put some thought into it but I’d mostly planned to eat it, John doesn’t like honey.”

“John loves honey but you love it more so he always lets you have it all.” said Mrs. Hudson who was now putting the dessert in the middle of the kitchen table. “I noticed that right off, years ago.”

Mrs. Hudson was as amazing as John in her own way. “I can make John something with it then. What can I make?” Mrs. Hudson collected cookbooks. She had a whole bookcase with nothing but cookbooks on it.

“Where is John now?”

“He’s taking a nap. He worked today and he didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Well the shops are all open, let’s go down and see what’s there. We can find something for you to make for dinner.”

“Doesn’t cooking take a long time?” Sherlock technically knew how to cook. He’d just never done it. John cooked, or there was take-away, or Mycroft fed him, and when he went to visit his parents food appeared whenever you called one of the servants, and London was filled with restaurants. Still the principles were fairly basic and Sherlock was a scientist so he did know how to produce certain results. Surely all those skills could be translated into the ability to cook.

“It does take time to do it right so we’d better get going.” Mrs. Hudson could really move when motivated. For some reason she was very keen on the idea of Sherlock cooking for John and nearly manhandled Sherlock out the door and down to Tesco’s to fill a small cart with ingredients, “We’ll cook at my flat, I’ve got everything we need.” she said so Sherlock left John a note telling him he was assisting Mrs. Hudson, just in case the doctor woke up before they were done.

Two hours later Sherlock crept upstairs to check on John. He was still sleeping so Sherlock ferried up the entire meal he’d cooked with the ample help of Mrs. Hudson and stowed it all in the oven to keep warm. He then brought down two more containers of honey to Mrs. Hudson by way of thanks and returned to their flat to wake John from his nap after locking all the doors tight, putting their phones on vibrate, and then changing into his pajamas. It turned out that kissing John awake was very well received if the several minutes of rolling around together, laughing softly and kissing again and again were anything to judge by. “You must be hungry.”

“I’m famished actually, can we order in?” Sherlock just helped John out of bed and into his robe and slippers. He took the doctor to the kitchen, “Oh my god it smells incredible in here. Did you order in already?”

Sherlock shook his head but laid out everything he’d helped make, “Mrs. Hudson has frightening facility with YouTube. She helped me make dinner.”

“That’s just…I can’t….look at how many _things_ there are! You made all of this?” Mrs. Hudson really was a dictator in the kitchen. She’d steamrolled over Sherlock’s attempts to keep things simple, forcing him to set up his laptop in her kitchen while they made an eclectic selection of edibles from around the globe. Two hours was more than enough time for Mrs. Hudson to have used every pot and pan in her extensive collection to create the meal spread out before them. She was downstairs happily washing up, telling Sherlock the warm water soothed her wrists and that she’d be having her herbal soother right after.

“I helped. Mrs. Hudson had to demonstrate a good deal and ended up doing most of the preparation but I did the cooking part.” There were kebabs made with honey-glazed meats, vegetables sliced or shredded into delicate salads, little complicated looking pastry rolls stuffed with savory filling, and little cakes of steamed rice that had been shaped into triangles and dressed in seasonings.

John set the table and Sherlock poured some wine for them. John kissed Sherlock, “This is amazing. You are amazing. Thank you.”

“You’ll have to thank Mrs. Hudson too, only you’ll have to do it tomorrow. She’s probably already relaxing.” Sherlock explained the noise machine and the earplugs and watched John’s face turn red, “What.”

“She must have heard us the other night.” John’s face was very red.

Sherlock considered it. He didn’t think they’d made much noise but then recalled how he’d enjoyed all of John’s moans and cries, and how very thin the walls were at Baker Street and then his face was as red as John’s. She’d overheard them. “She promises to have her noise machine on every single night.” Both of them fiddled with their forks and tried not to laugh about being embarrassed.

Once they got past that little revelation they set to consuming their meal. Honey played a large role in each and every dish and John nearly made himself ill trying to eat all of it. By the time they were nibbling on dessert John needed to go sit on the sofa and relax, “That was incredible. That was the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad you liked it John.” Sherlock was lying on the sofa with John. Both of them were too full to move much so John stuck on a DVD which they ignored in favor of lying face to face and simply kissing the time away. John called it necking. They took a break after the first movie and John stuck in a second one after they made themselves comfortable on the sofa again, this time with a blanket to snuggle under which John pulled over their heads so that it was dark and warm. They’d shed their robes and were both dressed in just their pajamas as their kisses slowly changed from being soft loving reassurances and fanned into something warmer.

It had progressed to the stage where Sherlock had his hands down John’s pants and John had Sherlock’s shirt rucked up nearly to his chin when they decided going to bed was the best option. Both men nearly fell over themselves shutting everything off and pawing at each other as they stumbled toward the bedroom, “This is the best date I’ve ever been on.” mumbled John against Sherlock’s mouth.

“It’s not over yet.” said Sherlock as he nearly carried John through the door and into the bedroom. They stood there in the middle of the room just kissing and biting at one another as they got rid of everything they were wearing. Having their skin pressed together was very necessary and Sherlock’s entire focus was on John. He had plans for his doctor who was now rested and fed. He’d need the energy, every scrap of it. Sherlock kicked the door shut and locked himself away with John still in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many details en route


	16. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So their first date didn't go exactly as planned but that's not a bad thing, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION - NSFW  
> sit on a towel or something - I'm not judging

 

John Watson, once of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers had been a Captain, was known for his reputation for being honest, reliable, brave, and for being the best damn shag on three continents. They hadn’t even made it to the bed yet and Sherlock was already beginning to make sounds he wasn’t at sure had actually come from him. John was currently nearly molesting Sherlock where he stood, one of the detective’s legs hitched up to the soldier’s waist, holding on as John simply took Sherlock to pieces. John had been a talented surgeon before he’d been shot but Sherlock was now absolutely sure John could receive a doctorate of some kind for the things he could do with his tongue.

Sherlock surprised himself by thanking each and every fleeting affair John had ever had that had given him the chance to perfect his skills. John’s tongue was wet, warm, supple, clever, and tireless. John was cruel and teasing too. He made Sherlock stand when standing was becoming impossible, just so John could continue to torture Sherlock with that dextrous muscle. John was exactly the right height to be able to attack Sherlock’s neck without mercy though Sherlock’s chest did not go unravished. John nibbled and toyed with all the sensitive patches he’d mapped out until Sherlock was simply hanging onto the soldier and struggling to remain upright. “What do you want?” he asked in between kisses.

“God, anything John, _everything_ ,” John shifted smoothly and Sherlock found himself flat on his back on the bed, knees spread wide as John continued to kiss and tease Sherlock, working his way downward with confidence. He seemed to take particular delight in Sherlock’s nipples, especially when he wrung something approaching a sob from the taller man. Sherlock could barely process the sensations he was experiencing. For him the words _wet_ and _warm_ and _throb_ and _tingle_ took on whole new dimensions.

When he got to Sherlock’s navel John stopped and looked up, “Just feel.” he commanded softly and Sherlock obeyed. John kissed his way across Sherlock’s abdomen, careful not to tickle him in sensitive places but working his way steadily toward Sherlock’s very hard, very eager cock. John hadn’t laid a finger on it yet, but it was still fully engorged and shining at the tip. Sherlock’s foreskin wasn’t as pronounced as John’s but it was still very delicate so Sherlock shivered a bit when John gently touched it, “You’re very sensitive, you’ll tell me if something is too intense, alright?” John wasn’t asking and Sherlock nodded. He had a vague idea what was about to happen and his fingers caught handfuls of bedding to anchor himself.

John used his marvellously wicked tongue to explore Sherlock’s cock all over, slithering down the shaft, pushing at his testicles, pressing against his perineum before sliding slowly back up until John was using that same tongue to circle slowly over the glans. Sherlock groaned when John’s mouth covered the tip of Sherlock’s cock, tasting and teasing. John pulled away and moved to kiss Sherlock’s mouth hard. Sherlock could taste himself on John’s lips and suddenly it was as if John wanted to eat Sherlock alive. Sliding back down between Sherlock’s wide-spread thighs John took him back into his mouth and Sherlock almost came instantly.

Sherlock’s brain completely shut down. He had a hard time managing his eyes which kept falling shut even though Sherlock wanted to watch John’s miracle of a mouth drag up and down his cock. God just saying it in his head made him want to come. _John Watson was sucking his cock_ and going at it like he never wanted to stop. When John began to touch and play with Sherlock’s balls he couldn’t stay still any longer. Nearly sitting up Sherlock kept his legs spread but he had to see, had to move! His hips tried to thrust but John’s hand pushed them down as he took in nearly half of Sherlock’s cock swiftly but kept pulling off slowly in a maddening rhythm.

He had never experienced anything like the texture and heat inside John’s mouth. Sherlock realized he’d been chanting the word “Oh” over and over again, his voice nearly breaking as his whole body began to grow tense, his hips snapping involuntarily enough to make John almost lose his pace. Sherlock’s chest was heaving, his ribs bellowing as he dragged in huge breaths, growing dizzy as he nearly hyperventilated, unable to coordinate the sublime pleasure that was threatening to escape with his need to breathe. He wanted to hold John’s head or grip his shoulders but he didn’t dare let go of the sheets lest he propel both of them right off the bed.

John did something. He somehow cupped Sherlock’s testicles with one hand, his thumb pressing on Sherlock’s anus, and then John made a deep rumbling sound that vibrated against Sherlock just as John pushed down as far as he could go. Sherlock shouted unintelligibly as he fell back, his back arched and his toes digging into the mattress as pulse after pulse of come was swallowed down by John. Sherlock couldn’t breathe! He gasped and clutched at his chest as he was wracked with such extreme pleasure that he was unable to see for a second. “Mmm god you’re so good, that was so good, you’re so beautiful, my delicious amazing man, god I love you.” John was kissing Sherlock, his mouth faintly tasting of the bitter seed he’d taken. “Turn over Sherlock.”

Still panting Sherlock flopped over and let John push his legs wide once more. “Lift.” ordered John and Sherlock’s hips were tugged up so John could stuff a pillow beneath him, “You are just so beautiful. I wish you could see how fucking incredible you look right now.” It seemed that John was a sweet-talker in bed.

John kissed Sherlock’s back with aching delicacy, letting Sherlock cool down and recover as he peppered his adorations along his spine, followed his arms up and down, made his way down Sherlock’s side and kissed his way across Sherlock’s arse, “Just feel.” commanded John again. Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes.

John’s hands grazed over the skin of Sherlock’s behind lightly before Sherlock felt John’s mouth grazing over the plush expanse, exploring and sensitizing Sherlock at the same time, “I know you’re nervous love. Don’t worry, just feel.” reassured John before he used his fingers to slide along Sherlock’s cleft. It felt safe and loving. There was nothing to worry about because this was John. Sherlock breathed carefully and spread his legs the tiniest bit wider, “That’s good Sherlock, so good.” John’s praises warmed Sherlock inside.

John’s hands cupped Sherlock’s behind and using his thumbs the doctor spread him open gently. Sherlock felt the cool air, felt the heat of John’s hands, felt how his hips undulated just a bit, felt how he wasn’t even the smallest bit afraid, felt how his transport began to yearn for something more. It was still shocking though when John’s tongue swept boldly over him and not quickly. John began right behind Sherlock’s testicles and didn’t stop until he sucked a kiss onto Sherlock’s sacrum.

“I want you to pay attention Sherlock. I’m going to show you how to do something, something that you’re going to want to do very soon.” John kissed his way back up Sherlock’s spine until he was nearly laying on him, the heaviness of John’s cock barely teasing Sherlock’s behind. Despite where his mouth had just been Sherlock willingly twisted a bit to receive the deep kiss John gave him. He still felt dazed from his orgasm but the words John whispered in his ear filled him with a rush of energy, “I want you to have me, I want to show you what to do so you can take me. Do you want that Sherlock?”

God! John was _offering_ himself to Sherlock! This man, this soldier, this astounding epitome of masculinity was willing to allow Sherlock to penetrate him! Sherlock couldn’t speak. He just nodded and then kissed John again, overwhelmed with feelings. John was amazing, how did he even exist when he was so perfect? Sherlock felt humbled once again as he understood the breadth of John’s love for him.

John knelt back on his heels and stroked his fingers over Sherlock’s behind again, “You’ll want to be gentle at first, feel.” Sherlock closed his eyes and felt John’s fingers part him again. When he felt the pads of John’s fingertips move over him he couldn’t help but shiver. John explored carefully, just touching and pressing gently, “You might not want to use your mouth but I’d like to. You can use your fingers just as well.” John’s mouth kissed its way across a buttock before that wicked tongue wiggled and tasted its way toward Sherlock’s entrance.

Sherlock relaxed and let John do as he would. It felt marvelous, his tongue was so very warm and the pressure was delightful. He felt John trace his shapes and textures, felt how John was beginning to press more, felt how the slow build up brought with it increasing pleasure until John finally, finally pushed his tongue inward. Sherlock groaned loudly. That was bloody brilliant!

A finger joined John’s tongue which retreated. The doctor’s voice was husky now, “Take your time.” John had lube again, Sherlock heard the container open and felt the quickly warming gel being stroked over him. John’s finger swirled for a moment before pressing slowly until his finger began to sink in. Sherlock held his breath as someone breached him for the first time. It felt so strange, so foreign. John worked his finger in and out gently, pushing deeper each time until it was moving easily and Sherlock was unconsciously rocking back into it, “Good, that’s so good, you’re doing so good.” soothed John.

Sherlock felt a second finger teasing its way inside, “Just be patient.” instructed John and Sherlock nodded. It felt ridiculously good. Sherlock’s cheeks heated both with arousal as well as a flash of embarrassment over how afraid he’d been of this act all this time. This was gorgeous! Suddenly a rush of heat and pure unfiltered pleasure jolted him, “Prostate, very sensitive.” John’s fingers were inside Sherlock and each time they brushed over that one particular spot Sherlock’s whole body clenched and he could feel his cock hardening once again. Both of John’s fingers were working hard inside Sherlock, scissoring and loosening the reluctant muscles, “This will make it all easier, more pleasurable. Your cock is much bigger than mine; you’ll need three fingers, like this.” A third finger was slowly introduced and Sherlock heard himself whimpering, felt himself pushing back to hurry John inside, felt his cock swell and grow as John provoked more and more exquisite sensations. John was breathing hard too, his hand moving steadily until he finally slowed and withdrew. Sherlock was completely erect now and so aroused his thoughts were fuzzy once more, “Let’s switch places.” Sherlock could barely move but he pushed himself up.

Before John lay face down Sherlock kissed him, “I love you John.” The smile on John’s face was a thing of beauty. His lovely eyes were soft and shining, the blush on his cheek was hectic with arousal, and there was such _love_ in every feature that Sherlock had to kiss John again, “I love you so much.”

Sherlock took his time. His arousal was intense but manageable thanks to his earlier release. He began at the back of John’s neck, using his mouth and tongue to explore his lover. John would never stop being fascinating. His body was so scarred, it was fantastic. Each one was a mark of John’s ceaseless valor, he was battle-hardened and deadly and yet he deigned to spread himself wide, his back to Sherlock, allowing him the most intimate access to himself the way Sherlock knew John had never offered anyone before. How had Sherlock been able to resist the tidal wave of love inside him, that mercilessly overwhelming pull to worship this broken-winged angel of mercy? He’d been a fool a million times over for not seizing upon John the very first moment they laid eyes on one another.

He wasted not one more second and began his devotions, promising himself to never stop. Bending his head to the task Sherlock’s brilliant mind whirled into gear as he recalled each and every thing John had ever done to him and began to learn to bring John pleasure. John had huffed gentled breaths over Sherlock’s skin and it had made him feel each kiss that followed with greater intensity so Sherlock copied John and watched as the almost invisible hairs on John’s back seem to stand as one. John exhaled softly. Sherlock traced John’s muscles using kisses and worked his way down and down until he reached the peach fuzz covered posterior that his hands simply delighted in.

John Watson’s bottom was simply luscious. It was firm and just big enough to fill each of Sherlock’s hands perfectly. Sherlock teased John just a little bit by sliding his wide spread hands up the backs of John’s thighs until his thumbs began to part John and expose him, “Oh god John.” That this small point of flesh, this wrinkled furl, that shy and hidden orifice should trigger such lust was difficult to comprehend. Sherlock’s transport paid no attention to the lack of functionality of Sherlock’s brain and simply did what it wanted. Sherlock tasted John.

The texture was both firm and tender, resistant and inviting. Sherlock could taste the salt of John’s skin, something dark and earthy that was overwhelmed by the musk of John’s rut. It was sensational and it drove Sherlock to even greater heights of desire. The kiss that he gave John was obscene and deep, thrusting and wanton. One of John’s hands reached back and managed to catch a handful of Sherlock’s curls but only to ride back as both men groaned and panted. Sherlock could feel John’s body begin to accept him readily and waited until there was no more resistance before he allowed the tip of his first finger to swirl with great delicacy over John’s rim.

Sherlock need to rearrange himself, he’d nearly been lying down with his face buried between John’s cheeks but now he need to control what his hand was doing so once again he followed John’s lead, kneeling behind John and sitting on his feet. The bottle of lube was by John’s hip and Sherlock made sure to be generous as he coated his fingers, warming a large droplet on them before tenderly beginning to touch John.

Sherlock kissed John everywhere he could reach as the pad of his finger swirled and swirled. When he felt both of them were ready Sherlock pressed forward and gasped with John as his finger slid in with surprising ease to the first knuckle. Fearing he’d gone too fast Sherlock pulled back as slowly as he could, “Again.” moaned John. Biting his lips Sherlock pressed once more and this time John pushed back as well so Sherlock sank even deeper. They kept it up until John was rocking back freely, Sherlock buried past the second knuckle, “More.” urged John so Sherlock withdrew gently before beginning to push in two fingers. He could feel the tight ring of muscles gripping his fingers hard now, forcing Sherlock’s knuckles to press together. John’s body seemed even hotter inside so with patience Sherlock began to move back and forth slowly, nudging his way deeper each time until John’s body finally yielded and began to accept him with growing ease. Both men were covered in a sheen of sweat by the time Sherlock had worked his way to easing a third finger in. His cock was almost painfully hard now and John was rutting against the pillow, nearly senseless with lust and Sherlock only slightly less so. “God, I’m ready Sherlock, please, god I’m ready.”

Sherlock fumbled for the lube, spreading it generously over himself and groaning as he fucked his fist for a second to get it everywhere. He took the precautionary measure of warming more on his fingers and reapplying it to John’s well prepared opening, “John.” Sherlock could barely speak. He hoped John understood that he was overwhelmed with love right then and that the passion he was experiencing made Sherlock feel both weak and powerful simultaneously. Bracing one hand on the mattress to steady himself Sherlock used his other hand to place the head of his cock against John, “John.”

“Start slow,” Sherlock obeyed. He let his body weight push him inward, watching John’s back and shoulders intently to see if he reacted in pain to anything Sherlock was doing. It was difficult to focus because John’s body was so tight, it took so much pressure to press inside so he rocked his hips shallowly to edge further and further until the head of his cock was buried. John bore down and pushed back, sliding himself down Sherlock’s staff at his own pace. Sherlock held himself still now, letting John draw himself off or push back down. After what seemed like a very long time John was pressed tight against Sherlock and both men were shaking with tension. Sherlock couldn’t help how his cock seemed to twitch and pulse inside John but the sensations were fabulous. John was groaning softly, shaking his head and rocking back shallowly once more, “Fuck…just….fuck Sherlock…this feels…fuck…” Suddenly John pulled forward, until Sherlock was barely inside and pushed back in one swift move. Sherlock felt the head of his cock brush over a small firmness deep inside John and the doctor nearly shouted, “Fuck! There!”

Sherlock began to move, rocking his hips slowly, watching his flesh sink into John’s over and over again, both men moving together until they found a pace they both liked. Sherlock found that magic spot inside John over and over again and exulted over the way John’s back flushed deep pink, or the senseless things the doctor was moaning, and the way John begged for more, asking Sherlock to fuck harder, to go deeper until their bed was shaking, the headboard was thumping against the wall, and Sherlock’s hips were pistoning back and forth, his hands braced on John’s lower back. This was heaven. This was bliss. This was the most fucking incredible feeling he’d ever experienced! Nothing would ever take the place over the pleasure of fucking John Watson.

One of John’s hands was beneath him, pulling in time with Sherlock’s thrusts. Sherlock wanted to do that but he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. John was urging him on, their moans and shouts filling the room as Sherlock felt John’s whole body grow suddenly rigid, his body clamping down on Sherlock’s cock and Sherlock felt John orgasm. He could feel the doctor’s body pulsing from the inside, felt the throbbing expulsion of John’s seed onto the sheet below them and with a broken cry Sherlock followed his Captain’s lead. The hot rush of seed that flowed from him made Sherlock twist, his hips snapping repeatedly as he drove himself as deep as he could into John, his skin damp with sweat as his whole body seemed to burst into flame with each jag of pleasure that rocked him to his very core.

Sometime later, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, he wasn’t sure, Sherlock realized he was still crouched over John, his head hanging, his cock still buried in John’s ass as he sucked in one deep breath after another. Sherlock pulled back slowly, wincing a bit as his oversensitive cock exited John’s embrace. John’s body was limp and unmoving, a trickle of white spilling from his well-used backside.

Weakly Sherlock smiled to himself. He was barely able to move his trembling legs and his hands seemed to not want to work anymore but he tottered off to the bathroom, rinsed out two flannels in hot water and came back to wash John off and making him comfortable. Sherlock then had to lean against the sink so he could wash himself off. He looked into the mirror and saw what he looked like. His hair was a riot. His cheeks were flushed in huge blooms of red that splashed down over his neck and chest. That same neck was covered in marks, most would likely fade by morning but some wouldn’t. Sherlock looked exactly as he should, well and thoroughly shagged and definitely _not_ a virgin any more. He was still smiling as he tumbled back into bed, barely strong enough to gather his doctor to his chest. Date night had been a complete success. Sherlock slept.

 


	17. Brother Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a night!

Sherlock woke eventually to the sound of the shower in the background. He sat up and looked around before padding naked to the bathroom where he found John standing under what looked to be straight hot water, “I can barely bend, I almost had to call Mrs. Hudson to help me get off the loo, the using of which by the way, wasn’t fun at all.” John was griping but his face was still smiling and his eyes were twinkling so Sherlock just stepped under the water with him and began to rub John’s back with the aid of some shower gel, “Good morning.”

“Good morning John.” Sherlock kissed John tenderly but didn’t stop working the stiffness from John’s lower back, “You’ll need to take it easy today I expect.”

“It’s worth it.” said John firmly with another kiss. He was leaning on Sherlock’s chest while Sherlock reached around to his back to help loosen his muscles. “I took a couple of paracetamols, which will help.” Sherlock felt like he ought to apologize but he really didn’t want to. It was bad that John was experiencing discomfort but the reason for it was too wonderful to be sorry for. “Let’s go out for breakfast, just Speedy’s or something. I want to get out.”

Oh. Well, taking care of John was exactly what Sherlock wanted to do and if his soldier was hungry then off they would go, “Certainly John.” Sherlock went up to John’s room and fetched him some clothes to spare him the stairs and they went down to Speedy’s hand in hand, laughing and teasing one another about John’s current inability to walk with grace. Both men were lightly blushing but anyone who saw them smiled along at the tangible happiness that surrounded the couple.

Breakfast sandwiches consumed along with some nearly lethal coffee prompted John to go for a walk in the park, declaring that each step made him feel better. Sherlock watched John carefully but it did seem as if John were walking with greater ease the further along they went but to be cautious he kept their walk brief and soon enough had John eagerly hustling him back to their flat as Sherlock whispered naughty promises in the doctor’s ear to tempt him. John snuck in discrete kisses here and there when momentary privacy was possible but that just encouraged Sherlock to become bold which turned into a bit of a competition for sneaky wandering hands as they made their way home.

When they got back to Baker Street those mutually wandering hands were stilled on the stairwell when they both caught scent of overly expensive cologne. John pushed into the flat first and with a cool and steady voice he said, “Mycroft.”

“My dear doctor, so good to see you are tending as closely as ever to my brother’s well-being. Sherlock, you’re practically glowing.” Mycroft was smirking at his brother, delighting in Sherlock’s wooden expression. Trust Mycroft to come mock Sherlock for succumbing to his emotional side. Any time Sherlock had gotten sentimental about something or someone Mycroft came in to either ruin it or take it away. Sherlock felt his whole body grow rigid and Mycroft’s smile grew bigger.

“Say one discouraging word Mycroft Holmes, just one. You rain on Sherlock’s parade today and I promise to make you sorry.” John just stood there and was quietly threatening. Mycroft’s eyes narrowed.

“Just because you deflowered my brother at long last does not give you any power over _me_. It’s a shame really. Sherlock was always vulnerable to addictions though I suppose being addicted to a fellow adrenalin junkie was inevitable. How long before he gets tired of his new toy do you suppose Doctor Watson? Sherlock experiments constantly, he’ll use you up and move onto the next thing that interests him at the moment. You were his favorite plaything for a long time. Now that he has you back he’ll play for a while and then forget you all over again.” Mycroft smiled down at John in an almost friendly fashion.

Sherlock tried to control the sense of dread that slammed into him. Mycroft was so good at playing mind games, and Sherlock knew that John had issues about abandonment. John had a lot of trust issues and Sherlock had exacerbated all of them with the act that saved John’s life as well as Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. Sherlock expected that Mycroft had just successfully triggered the schism that would eventually sunder their new relationship into dying pieces. Instead John reached into his pocket without breaking his gaze with Mycroft. He pushed a single button and brought the mobile to his ear, “Mummy! Hi its John, yeah, I’m late for the weekly update but you know how it is with your son. Yes he’s fine. I took your advice, it worked. Thanks. No. Your oldest is here. He’s doing that thing we talked about. Yes I told him. Alright. Okay. Right. Okay, next week then, ta!” John disconnected and smiled at the horror stricken expression on Holmes the Elder’s face, “Wait for it.”

Mycroft’s phone rang. Mycroft was pale when he lifted it to his ear and connected the call, “Mummy, what a delight.” Mycroft closed his eyes as his mother poured stern words into her son’s ear, “Mummy…that’s not….I…. of course not…no….please no…Mummy… I…yes… no…you wouldn’t. Mummy no…of course not…no that’s not what…I…Mummy…yes I would be thrilled. Thursday then, love to Papa.” The call ended and now John was the one smirking down at Mycroft who looked up at the doctor and said, “ _How_?”

“Your poor mum. I feel bad for her. You know I would never have met them if you hadn’t arranged for me to reconcile with Mary _during Christmas_. Thanks for that. Your mum was amazing; she really helped me through it all. I call her once a week to let her know we’re doing alright. That’s all she wants, just to know her boys are alright so I give her call right after I call my mum, she worries too. I don’t know why you don’t seem to want to visit with your folks, they’re great.”

Sherlock was staring at John like he was one of those pod people from that papier-mâché movie they’d watched and John winked at him, “What advice?”

“Later Sherlock, we’re saying goodbye to Mycroft, he’s got a _visit_ to get ready for.” John continued to smirk at the very disconcerted civil servant. “I asked you nicely Mycroft. I’m not your brother, I went to fucking war and if you think I’m going to let you get away with all that big brother bullshit you’ve been dealing out up until now you can bet your favorite umbrella that you will be sorely mistaken. I don’t think I have to spell things out for you do I?”

“Indeed not. As you say, I have visitors to prepare for. Shall we say dinner on Thursday?” Mycroft stood and walked to the door, “Mummy will love to see you both.”

Mycroft left and John was left with Sherlock who could not stop staring at John, “How? What advice? John?”

John was smiling hard, “Your mum is lovely. I wasn’t fibbing; she really helped me get through that whole mess with Mary. It was kind of like talking to my own mum without actually having to talk to my mother about relationships. I think she had us figured out, she told me to push hard, not to give up. I didn’t know what she meant but then your mum kept telling me you could talk yourself out of anything given half a chance and that Mycroft has been giving you a hard time since your were just children because you’re more sensitive than he was. She says you take after your dad that way, he’s great too.”

“You’ve been chatting with my parents?” Sherlock really didn’t know what to think. He had a cordial relationship with his parents but he had never been one to call unless he had to, “They’ve been giving you relationship advice?”

“Weird yeah but yes, I see where you get your smarts though, she’s impossible to hide from. Just so you know we’re under constant alert for random parental visits if we don’t keep in touch with them regularly. I’ve been calling every week; I know they sort of make you crazy.”

Sherlock loved his parents but John was right, after being with them for more than an hour Sherlock wanted to run away from home and had done exactly that numerous times. “Wait, that’s what you arranged with Mummy?”

“Yep, your mum and dad are packing up to go stay with Mycroft for two whole weeks and he has to take them out every evening to a different entertainment unless he can _prove_ he’s needed for work. She says they have things to sort out with Mycroft as well.” Sherlock was entirely stunned and completely unsure how to feel about everything.

“You used my parents as ammunition against my brother and it worked.” Sherlock still couldn’t quite accept the facts though he’d witnessed the results himself. His soldier was amazing! He’d had a defensive plan in place this entire time and Mycroft had been helpless to defend himself, “Marry me.”

“For real or do you want to fake it again? Third time lucky, right? I don’t know where I’d find wedding bands better than these ones though if we’re going undercover.” John was smiling and Sherlock kissed him hard, “Wait…seriously?”

“Too soon?” It made perfect sense to Sherlock. They loved each other, planned to be with each other forever, they’d _already_ told several people that they were married and had not experienced anything negative because of it, Sherlock had no desire to be with anyone else ever, and marrying John would take him right off the market for possible interlopers feeling hopeful.

“We haven’t even been dating two whole days.” said John who sounded more than a little surprised. “Most couples give it a bit before they make huge commitments like that.”

“Well how long is one supposed to wait?” asked Sherlock somewhat petulantly, wasn’t John supposed to fall into his arms and kiss him breathless or something? John hadn’t said yes and Sherlock didn’t feel very good about that. He supposed it hadn’t been a _very_ romantic proposal, he’d just said it. Sherlock chided himself; he should have made an occasion of it, not just tossed it out like he was asking John to make him tea.

John was looking at Sherlock and he didn’t look like he wanted to say something but was bracing himself to say it anyway, “I’m not divorced.”

“What? Your marriage is over! Mary is gone away with David, if that’s even their real names. How can you not be divorced!” how did Sherlock not know this? John had mentioned several trips to see barristers, wasn’t that what he’d been up to?

“There’s some kind of problem with the decree. It was supposed to be straight-forward but something’s tied it up. I’ve been trying to sort it out but we can’t find out what the hold-up is. I’m still married Sherlock. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am because I want to say yes to you so much. _I do_. I would. I’d marry you. I wish I _had_ married you. I’m so sorry.”

Some bureaucratic folderol was keeping Sherlock from his doctor and that was just not happening. Sherlock ripped his mobile out of his pocket and stabbed in a number, “Get back here.” he snarled into the phone, “You have a problem to solve.”

John made tea while they waited for Mycroft to return and Sherlock came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his doctor, “I feel horrible about this Sherlock. It wasn’t really a secret, I mean, we just never really talked about it and then there was the delay and things happened and….”

“John. It’s alright. I’m not happy about the news I’ll admit but it’s something we can sort out. I’m more irritated that we have to go through _Mycroft_ after finally getting one over on him.” John laughed weakly and leaned back into Sherlock’s embrace, “You love me and that’s enough. I didn’t expect even that much so I will try not to be greedy but I do want all of you John, in as many ways as there are to have you.”

“You really are always so greedy.” teased John, his voice sounding lighter. Sherlock felt better knowing John wasn’t as stressed as he’d been a moment before. “I do love you though Sherlock and I want you just as much. Believe that.”

“I do. I find it almost impossible to do so but I do. You love me and I shouldn’t expect more of a miracle than that.” of course Mycroft would arrive just as Sherlock had John pressed up against the kitchen counter, their kisses quickly becoming torrid.

Mycroft cleared his throat, managing to make his irritation fully known, “What is the problem that requires my personal attention?”

John explained and Mycroft gave him a curious look, “Well? Can you help expedite my divorce or not? If you can’t then I’ll just go back to waiting like I’ve been doing for weeks now.”

“I will need to make some calls. Give me a few minutes.” They left Mycroft in the kitchen as he began to murmur through one conversation after another. Nearly an hour later he came out, “Interesting.”

“What happened, why is it being held up in court?”

“It’s not. It’s not even on the docket for consideration.”

“What? How? Why? I’ve filled out half a forest worth of bloody forms to make this divorce happen, what went wrong?”

Sherlock glared at his brother who just ignored him, “Your divorce is not pending because it cannot be granted.”

“What the fuck! _Why_? What does that mean? Am I going to be married to Mary forever?” John was incredibly upset and even Mycroft was taken aback at how sick the doctor looked, “She’s a monster! She shot Sherlock on purpose knowing full well what would happen to me if I lost him again. She cuckolded me, made me care about a child I was never going to get to raise, and she fucking walked out on me with her boyfriend! I don’t want to be married to Mary forever! I want to marry Sherlock!”

“Doctor Watson, please allow me to explain before you distress yourself further,” Mycroft actually looked a bit concerned at John who had stood straight up and was nearly vibrating with shock and dismay, “Doctor Watson…John. Your divorce cannot be granted simply because there is no marriage to dissolve. That’s what the hold-up was. Mary Morstan does not exist; the woman you married was a figment. She was not real therefore your marriage is not real. Her identity has been proven false which invalidates the documents you signed to become her husband. The levels of government that this matter has been handled at are the highest. Her real identity is a matter of national security. Your file was flagged and as of five minutes ago signed off and closed. You are free to wed as you wish though why you would wish for my brother is beyond me.”

“I’m not married.”

“No Doctor Watson.”

“I was never married.”

“Exactly Doctor Watson.”

“I can marry Sherlock?”

“Are we doing this all afternoon? Yes Doctor Watson, you can marry my little brother and in anticipation of this happy occasion I have expedited the processes required to enable you to marry as soon as you wish. I have no desire to keep returning to Baker Street each time a thought occurs to you.” Sherlock decided Mycroft could be as snarky as he wished, he’d earned it.

Sherlock also felt this was an appropriate time to interject since he was obviously the fiancé and therefore entitled to some input, “As soon as we can get John’s mother here and his sister if he insists. Mummy and Papa will be in town soon, John? John we can do whatever you wish.”

“No, that’s exactly it. I don’t want a big wedding, I went through that with Mary and frankly Sherlock had a better time at my wedding than I did and he left early. Do you mind love, just something small with our family and nothing fancy?”

John had just called Sherlock _love_ in front of Mycroft. If maintaining his dignity wasn’t essential Sherlock would have just melted. “I’d marry you right this minute with only Mycroft present if we could manage it.”

“Well unfortunately for you I have a country to assist running. Discuss it and send Anthea a text later, I have several meetings to get to. Gentlemen.” Mycroft left Sherlock and John simply standing there smiling at one another. They were going to get married.

 


	18. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could life be any finer?

 

It turned out getting married wasn’t as simple as just making a few calls and telling a limited amount of relations that it was happening. John’s mother burst into tears over the phone, Harry yelled at John for ten minutes straight, Sherlock was required to call his parents and listen to them lecture him on treating John right and force a promise out of them to definitely meet for dinner the next day, and then Lestrade called about the poisonings and that they were needed at the Yard. Suddenly Sherlock and John had no free time.

John waved off Sherlock’s concern for the comfort of his backside and insisted on accompanying the detective to see Lestrade. They found the man nearly hidden behind piles of files, slowly pecking in an online report and looking annoyed, “We got the tests back from St. Bart’s and everywhere else you sent your samples. You were right about some of the honey being contaminated but it wasn’t what killed everyone. We can’t quite put the pieces together.” He shoved a stack of reports toward them, “The test results if that helps anything. This isn’t even my division now; all the deaths have been listed as accidental. We can’t link the bodies together at all and apart from being poisoned none of them have anything apparently in common, not even what they were poisoned with. It’s just a lot of people dead at the same time.” Lestrade scrubbed at his face, he was clearly very tired. “What’s with the rings?”

“The rings? Oh, we’re getting married.” said Sherlock distractedly. One person had died from consuming a toxin, others were exposed to their poisons via their skin, another had inhaled some somehow. He needed more information.

“What? Is this for a case? What’s going on here?” Lestrade really should just focus on his work. Sherlock didn’t ask the DI a load of questions every time Lestrade got married and he’d done so two or three times already. Sherlock looked through the tox-screens before giving them to John to go over.

Now the doctor was distracted, neither man paying attention to the look of utter surprise on Lestrade’s face, “I gave Sherlock the ring but he did the asking, we’re still sorting the details out.” John’s brow wrinkled as he read the reports, “We’ve got some leads to check on. We’ll be in touch.” Sherlock normally said that but John just gave Sherlock a look and a smile and nodded to the unoccupied hallway. Romance later, for now The Work, “The flower show, they had all those craft booths for doing stuff. Where else do they offer drop-in classes?”

Sherlock blinked as it all came together for him and John was nodding. Both men pulled out their mobiles and began to search for the information they knew must be out there, “John.” Sherlock showed him his mobile, “ _Cottage Industry Mobile Exhibition_. It’s been touring public spaces in London for the last month.”

“Location?” they examined the website and got the current location, “Let’s go.” John escorted Sherlock from the Yard and Sherlock had to smile to himself. It seemed that courtly behavior was to be expected from John and it made Sherlock feel buoyant and filled with light. Maybe they could combine romance and the Work; John at least didn’t seem to have a problem with it. He even held the taxi door open for Sherlock and helped him out when they arrived.

The traveling exhibition was a series of tent covered spaces where varying artisans displayed their skills and taught whoever showed up how to do a few basic steps. It was very interesting but as much as both John and Sherlock would have enjoyed participating they instead spent their time examining the variety of crafts being demonstrated and found one of the volunteer organizers, a small woman named Tanis. She was ginger, plump, cheerful, and filled with boundless energy. Both John and Sherlock had to trot after her despite the fact she was barely five feet tall. She could really move and spent the entire interview making her way from one display to another, “Well the vendors are all volunteers, we provide the tents and organize the space but they’re not required to attend. Everyone brings all their own supplies. It’s about spreading awareness and knowledge, not about making money. We don’t track who participates except for a rough head count. Half the people here had demonstrations during the flower show.”

So far they’d seen booths demonstrating how to make your own make furniture out of repurposed items, container gardening displays, goat-cheese shaping, how to crystalize flowers in sugar, how to make your own dyes, how to produce your own teas or potpourri, and a plethora of other homey activities but not a single honey distributer in the lot. Tanis checked her list, “No, no bee keeping, or honey anything. Sorry Mr. Holmes. I wish I could help.”

She left them there in the swirling crowd. Sherlock looked around. He knew it was there, the answer was somewhere right in front of them. John heaved a frustrated sigh, “Fuck, anyone could have done something. Look at this! All these people have spent loads of time learning these skills and have about fifteen minutes to try and teach a lot of random visitors about it. What if Jane Doe goes to the Flower Drying thing and then goes to the Cheese Making thing? Look at that cheese! There’s bloody flowers on it! Do people eat cheese flowers in real life?”

Sherlock stood there as understanding flooded through him in a torrent, “John, you’re brilliant!”

“What? Why? Did I do it again?”

“You did it again.”

“Well, that was fast.” exclaimed John looking pleased with himself, “Are you going to share with the rest of the class or do I have to keep guessing.”

“I need to check a few things first, come along John.” It might have felt nice to call John by an endearment but the sweetest word in Sherlock’s vocabulary was John’s name, so that’s what he used. John laced their hands together and with a smile let Sherlock tow him through the crowd to begin asking various artisans about their craft supplies.

_“Oh no, I bring my own flowers to dry. The technique can be used on any plant though really. Why?”_

_“Our goats are free-range but kept in special pasture to ensure they don’t eat anything untoward. Why?”_

_“Dyes aren’t for consumption but all the plants I use are safe if for some reason you needed to eat it. It would taste horrid though, maybe if you made a paste with something? Why?”_

_“The most dangerous things my pots have done is hold some displays at the flower show. Why?”_

“I’m just a very curious person, thank you for your time and the information.” Sherlock smiled charmingly and John practically beamed at everyone so they left the exhibition and made their way back to the flower show which was on its last day. Sherlock found one of the coordinators, “What happens to the discarded flora, the dead blooms and everything else?”

“Well very little goes to waste, most of it is composted though there’s very little need, most of the displays are sold or given away. Most of the cut floral displays are replaced daily.”

“Thank you for your time. John?” John nodded farewell to the coordinator and Sherlock walked off with him, “We need to speak to the family and friends of the deceased.”

That would take a lot of time but John didn’t hesitate. He just nodded decisively and called Lestrade. “We’ll be back at the Yard soon.” promised the doctor, “Off we go love.”

Lestrade was looking impatient and ignored everything else he was working on, “What the hell do you mean you’re getting married?” he demanded the second he saw them. Both Sherlock and John heaved sighs and just looked at Lestrade, “Are you having me on?”

John shook his head, “No. It’s really happening.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” demanded Lestrade.

“I’m sorry Greg! I didn’t know Sherlock and I were required to keep the Yard notified of our domestic arrangements!” John was sounding testy. Sherlock glanced at Lestrade before striding over, pulling the DI away from his computer by dint of rolling him out of the way while the man sat in his office chair and took over his computer. A thunderous clatter of typing ended with a firm tap on the enter key. “Sherlock, what did you just do?”

“I sent a blast memo to everyone on Lestrade’s mail list. Now everyone knows and we won’t have to trouble ourselves with trying to explain the concept to everyone one at a time.” John was still staring at Sherlock in shock and a little bit of anger, “Not good?”

From down the hall all three of them heard Detective Ellis shout, “I won the pool! I can’t believe I won it!” Lestrade was laughing now, all traces of his former ire totally gone because Sherlock’s face was apparently the funniest thing the DI had ever seen.

“That pool is enormous now. She can probably afford to go on vacation with that and she’s only been on the team for two years!” Lestrade was chuckling but John still had that look around his mouth that informed Sherlock he’d once again crossed a line.

“What pool?” he asked with resignation. John would shout at him in private, he was sure of it. John was good that way.

“The pool for when you two finally got together, it kind of went on hold when you were dead but the second you were back it went up again. I think Marlow was in charge of the book.” Lestrade’s good humor seemed completely restored but John was irate. “What do you need?”

John explained in clipped words how Sherlock had worked out the possibility of toxic honey and the trails they’d currently followed. Soon all of them were going over the reports and Lestrade organized officers to begin the questioning.

Eleven people had died on that day, spread out all over the city and so with some reluctance John and Sherlock split up and with the assistance of several others they made their way through a voluminous list of people. When it became too late to keep speaking to strangers Sherlock met up with his lover so he and John could go back to Baker Street. Sherlock immediately began to work with all the data he’d collected and allowed John to sneak-feed him while he put in loaded everything into his database and began to examine the facts from multiple angles. He pulled up maps and geological surveys. He factored in the data gathered for him by the soldiers as well as all the information he and John had gathered together. His eyes were finally feeling grainy and blinking heavily Sherlock yawned and stretched. He could work more tomorrow.

John was sleeping on the sofa, his teacup still clutched in his hand. Sherlock winced. John looked very uncomfortable. He’d clearly fallen asleep while trying to keep himself awake. His back would be sore again and his behind must still be tender. Chiding himself once again Sherlock made a promise to never get lost in work or thought for so long that John was doing himself ill for lack of attention. John was his fiancé; it was Sherlock’s responsibility to look after his betrothed. He would be a married man soon and he never wanted John to ever feel he came second to anything. Sherlock could have taken half an hour to see his soldier off for the night and gone back to work after, “Sweetheart, we must get you to bed properly.” whispered Sherlock tenderly.

John’s mouth quirked into a sleepy smile though his eyes remained shut, “S’nice…sweetheart.” Sherlock leaned forward and pressed a kiss to John’s forehead.

With soft words, his voice low and gentle Sherlock said, “You are very sweet and you know how I love sweet things. You are my heart, you always have been. Come to bed my love.” John barely woke as Sherlock walked him slowly to the bedroom to strip them both down to their skins and slide both of them into bed. Sherlock held John against his chest and relished the heat from John’s skin directly against his. Kissing John’s hair and forehead Sherlock closed his eyes, “My sweet John.”

During the night all the facts Sherlock had taken in that day swirled and danced in his head, jumbling around in a confusing cacophony of images and scents, the taste of honey strong in his mouth. Sherlock’s unconscious mind flitted this way and that through his mind palace, the random associations his sleeping mind was making creating dreams that were fantastical and almost disturbing. Honey was the key he knew it was but how? Honey _flower_. Honey _key_. Honey _clue_. Honey _love_. Honey _sweet_. Sweet _John_. John. John. John.

Sherlock slept and dreamed of something far sweeter than honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....dinner with the parents


	19. Mummy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So everyone knows now and there's nothing to be done but go ahead and just get things done.

Sherlock had expected John to be nervous about an official dinner with his parents but John just scrubbed himself up like normal, pulled on his favorite oatmeal jumper and a nice pair of trousers. John was now sitting across a dark-wood table from Papa who was laughing and joking with the soldier while Mummy made Sherlock and Mycroft help finish the dinner she had cooked. Mummy was an imposing woman and brooked no disobedience from her children regardless of their age or accomplishments. The years had treated her kindly and though her hair had turned snowy white all the men of the Holmes family agreed unanimously that Mummy was only more beautiful than she had ever been.

Mummy had dismissed all of Mycroft’s servants for the night and was now in the kitchen lecturing both sons over the potato salad, “You are getting lazy Mycroft, you and Sherlock both. It’s high time you realized that just because you _can_ get someone to do something for you that you aren’t _entitled_ to do so all the time. You especially Mycroft, you are not incapable. This house is far too large for a single man, you need someone. Clearly neither of you boys have ever been interested someone from the society you grew up with. Since we know this what sort of fellow is going to want to live with you Mycroft if you force him to live in some kind of upper-class isolation tank? None! Look at Sherlock, he found himself John who is down to earth and such a good boy, Sherlock has made John comfortable with how they live. Don’t give me that look Mycroft; it’s not your brother’s fault you haven’t settled down. I don’t know where you boys got all this starch from but it’s high time you learned to bend a little.”

“But Mummy…” Mycroft stood there stiff and uncomfortable but still finishing the green salad she had him make.

“Don’t _but Mummy_ me young man. Your job has gone to your head. You take too much delight in the games you play with work and have mistaken that enjoyment for real life. It’s not. It’s a job. If you didn’t have it you’d just do something else. What kind of life is that to lead my boy? An empty one! It’s entirely possible to have both. Mycroft, you need to try a little harder to be like your brother. He’s had such trouble but now look at him. John is such a dear and he’s made your brother so happy. Don’t you want that angel-baby? What about that handsome young man we met when we were in London last, you seemed to find him very attractive…Sherlock, what was his name again, lovely young thing, I’m just terrible with names, Garvin? Graham? Garret? It was something like that, Mycroft you seemed quite taken with him. You should ask him out. Sherlock you work with the boy, who is he again?”

Sherlock was enjoying dinner very much now and they hadn’t even begun to eat. He wished John was beside him; he’d remember everything and tell John in detail later, “Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“Oh, a _Detective Inspector_ , that sounds just perfect for you Mycie! He’d be like having a knight in shining armor of your very own, why it’s just the loveliest thought. Sherlock we need to invite…what was his first name….to dinner, perhaps tomorrow?”

“Gregory will be working tomorrow, Fridays are very busy for the Yard.” said Mycroft tensely. The normally unflappable man looked like he was wishing he had the power to disappear from the face of the earth as his mother stuck a bowl of eggs in front of him to shell.

“How do you know unless you’ve asked him? You know, I bet John would call him for you if you’re shy, I’ll just go ask shall I?” Mummy put aside her cutting board and made as if to walk to the living room where John was visible.

“ _No_! That’s not necessary. I can call the Detective Inspector myself.” cried Mycroft. Blushing did not suit Mycroft. His red face clashed with his ginger hair and made his freckles even more obvious than ever.

“Well go do it now. I expect to hear an answer back before I serve up which will never happen unless Sherlock finishes with slicing the roast!” Sherlock had been standing there the entire time with the knife in his hand so he bent his head to the task, smiling hugely at Mycroft’s discomfited face as he left the room to do his mother’s bidding. Mummy was smiling at her oldest son’s retreating back, “He tries so hard Sherlock. You need to give your brother more of a chance. He’s been lonelier for longer than you have and I’m sorry for that. I wish you’d both taken after your father; he’s always had a way with people, just like your John. Sadly you took after me so you’re going to help Mycroft with Greg, aren’t you.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his mother who had a small smile on, “You already knew his name.”

“Of course I did Sherlock, I’m not a fool. I could see Mycroft had feelings for that young man the second I laid eyes on him. Do not make me disappointed Sherlock. I will have none of the tricks you two used to play on one another. It was difficult raising two geniuses under one roof but this isn’t scholarly competition, this is about the heart and you wouldn’t want to hurt your heart would you?” Sherlock looked at his mother who was very serious. “Your brother isn’t as far along emotionally as you are. You’ve had John’s friendship for years and he has done you such good but Mycroft has had no one.”

John _was_ his heart; Sherlock would do absolutely anything to make sure John was never hurt if he could ever help it. Well, not the physical things. That would be impossible. John was always throwing himself in front of bullets and knives and all sorts of dangerous things but his feelings? What if Sherlock disappointed John? His soldier was a romantic at heart, he wouldn’t take kindly to any other answer but the one Sherlock gave, “I will help Mummy, John and I both.” Satisfied, Mummy deftly put the last of the meal together. Mycroft appeared a few minutes later, his face still red but he nodded at his mother and helped bring the platters of food out to the table.

Papa was listening to John explain the case when they began to bring the meal in, “So Sherlock jumps out of bed this morning shouting _honey-dust_ , _honey-dust_ and I just had no idea what was going on. He rushes out wearing only his robe and is on the street barefoot trying to catch a taxi before I can get out there and make him come inside. He drags me off to the morgue before we can even get a cup of tea inside but three hours later it was all solved. Still accidental but now we know how it happened.”

“The toxic honey trail,” said Mr. Holmes. Sherlock was the spitting image of Sieger Holmes with the very great exception of his eyes which he’d gotten from his mother, Violet. John’s eyes were shining with pride as he continued to explain how a string of amateurs had first taken over an apiary where the bees had managed to become fond of several different types of poisonous flowers. The honey had been harvested and made into honey-dust which was completely harmless except in this instance where the bees had included several unpleasant compounds and added them to their production accidentally. A string of further mistakes due to lack of complete understanding had led to the deaths of all those people. Flowers picked for their prettiness without knowing they were poisonous had been pressed into cheeses and consumed. Hand-dipped incense made with a very unwise selection of blossoms killed another person. Yet others had made other products that ended up triggering severe allergic reactions which led to the death of others, “So it really was all just accidental.”

“It doesn’t happen that way very often but it really was just a series of unfortunate events. Normally Sherlock would be out of sorts for having a case that wasn’t really a case but he does love puzzles and he ended up with a tonne of honey.” John smiled over at Sherlock before getting up and seating the detective.

Sherlock flushed because his father was smiling softly at both of them as John sat back down and took Sherlock’s hand directly, “It’s not even thirty kilos John, not a tonne. It seemed that most of our victims had attended various classes and had learned basic techniques. Hundreds of people did the same thing and are completely fine, there was no malicious intent. ”

“All of John’s friends helped you though?” pressed Sieger and John nodded but laughed as well.

“It was great running into all of them but now my old company thinks we’re married already and I’m going to be seeing them in two days. It’s a bit of a mess.” Sherlock was surprised that his father knew he and John had been pretending to be married but simply continued listening to his fiancé natter on with his father who seemed to be enjoying the experience immensely.

“When is John’s mother arriving Mycroft?” asked Violet.

“Tomorrow morning. Mrs. Watson will be here after lunch.”

“What sort of wedding do you want son? It can take some time to find a venue, we should start looking.” Sieger smiled over at Sherlock encouragingly.

“We have decided to not have a large wedding. John would prefer something small and soon.” said Sherlock and John nodded.

“I would have done it already except my mum would hunt me down and kill me. She’s still a little miffed that she’s not going to be a grandmother.” Only Sherlock felt John’s hand grow tense though the doctor was still smiling pleasantly. The child was the one thing John could not get past and Sherlock had no idea how to help his lover.

“What about your sister?” Mummy smiled over to John as she began to pass platters and bowls around for everyone to begin serving themselves.

John frowned a bit, “Harry…well I’m not sure if Harry wants to come. She’s not very pleased with me marrying Sherlock. She doesn’t care for him very much and spent a bit of time yesterday telling me about that. On the other hand, she didn’t come to my wedding to Mary either. I guess I don’t really know.” John’s mother, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson had been the family John had there, as well as the few military friends who’d been able to make it, including the very-nearly-late Major Sholto.

“Well I’m sure your mother and I will get along just famously, I cannot wait to meet her. Where is she arriving?” asked Violet with a smile.

“Mum will be here right after lunch. I’m picking her up at the train station.” John looked over at Sherlock.

“Is she coming just to meet Sherlock?” Sieger asked and John nodded, “Well that sounds ideal then. Mycroft, did you say everything else was already in order?”

“Yes Papa, I took care of everything already. I just need to know a time and location.” Mycroft was picking at his dinner.

Sherlock took John’s hand firmly in his and leaned forward to speak quietly to his lover, “John? Would you like to get married tomorrow? We can go anywhere in the city you like.” Sherlock didn’t care where or how it happened and he was answered with a huge smile.

“Yeah? You sure?” Sherlock nodded firmly, “Right. Well, what about the park? We go there all the time, that’s where Mike met me the day we were introduced; we can feed the ducks after.”

Sherlock’s heart was just so full. Trust John to be both sentimental and fun. Sherlock loved feeding the ducks. He thought them quite noble creatures, resilient and dependable. He and John often went for long strolls that ended with a few minutes by the water. “We have to call Mrs. Hudson.”

Mummy piped up, “For goodness sake you cannot forget Mrs. Hudson! Mycroft eat up. We have a good deal of planning to get done tonight and you’re getting too thin. I’ll have to speak to Greg about fattening you up; John is doing a marvelous job with Sherlock. John, you are a darling, no one can ever get him to eat!”

“What about wedding bands?” asked Sieger and Sherlock held up his hand, “Those? I thought they were props for a case?”

“They were and they weren’t. If John agrees I would like to use these as our wedding bands. I find them to be perfect symbols of our lives.” Sherlock looked over and John’s eyes were soft again, “Would that be alright John?”

John nodded and swallowed, “That would be perfect Sherlock.” his voice was a bit gruff and Sherlock realized he’d made his lover feel sentimental and he smiled at John once more, “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow John,” Tomorrow they’d be wed and begin their new lives together. Sherlock felt an urgent need to be alone with his soldier. This was a big thing, a very big thing, and Sherlock felt like everything in his life was finally falling properly into place, “We’ll be married tomorrow.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, “I will arrange for the appropriate people to be in attendance. Is there a particular time?”

“Well I need to spend a bit of time with my mum obviously but maybe in the afternoon?” John looked at Sherlock who calculated rapidly. John’s mother would arrive at 12:20pm. Factoring in travel time, service time if John took her someplace to have tea, weeping time because Mother Watson was a weeper (every single call, Sherlock had tracked it over the years), recovery time, further travel before he blinked at John, “We can meet at four in the park.”

“Yeah? Right. Four it is then.” John was extremely pleased and leaned over to kiss Sherlock quickly, “Nothing fancy, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Well that suited Sherlock perfectly and dinner was consumed with much discussion about what to wear, who else to call, if they should have a family dinner after, if John and Sherlock would go on a honeymoon, “Well I’d like to but before I can go I have to go to meet up with my old mates for our banquet.”

By the time dinner was done a brief wedding guest list had been produced, Lestrade was going to be Mycroft’s escort whether he realized it or not, Molly had been invited by Mummy even though John made a bit of a face, Mike Stamford was invited but was out of town for work but sent his best, and they left Harry a message though she didn’t call back. Everything arranged by phone except the invitation to Mrs. Hudson. John and Sherlock went back to Baker Street to talk to her in person.

Mrs. Hudson’s hands were clasped to her chest and her eyes simply shone, “I knew it! I just knew it! Oh Sherlock I knew you wouldn’t let your John slip through your fingers a second time! Oh my boys!” She squeezed them both and promised to meet them in the park the next day, “I’ll bring some pastries from the shop to celebrate, and they’ve been making miniature Banoffee pies. I’ll bring a box of those.”

After saying good evening to their landlady Sherlock nearly dragged John back up the stairs and into their bedroom where he showed John how closely he’d paid attention to the doctor’s oral skills. By the time Sherlock was done John was sleeping hard again, limp and sweaty and Sherlock felt very satisfied with seeing his lover so weary from their love-play. He’d never get tired of seeing John sleeping in his bed like that, his golden skin rosy, the dewy texture of his cooling skin, the soft relaxed way John breathed in his sleep, and the love. Oh Sherlock could see how John loved him with every speck of himself and it made Sherlock’s heart nearly hurt as he loved his soldier in return. Tomorrow would be here soon and it would be such a wonderful day. Sherlock slept.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Wanda and Tim - they're cool cats


	20. A Walk In The Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is their big day

 

John was the most wonderful person in the world to wake up to. He was amorous, patient, gentle, and giving. Each kiss he pressed to Sherlock’s body was a promise for _more_ _later_. This morning was filled with anticipation even as they sated themselves together. Like the first time they’d made love John’s body was now sprawled over Sherlock’s before the soldier heaved himself over and lay beside Sherlock who was had his hands over his eyes as he tried to compose himself, “Good morning love.” said John, still panting a bit.

It took a minute or two before Sherlock could make himself roll over into his John’s embrace, “Good morning love.” he said, greatly content with everything. They had time to just relax together but eventually Mother Nature became insistent so up they got. They shaved each other in the shower and exchanged lazy kisses as they washed up slowly. There was no rush. Once they got out they went to dress, John put on his most comfortable pair of green trousers and the checked shirt that went well with it. It was brisk out so he added a soft gray cardigan over it. When he slipped into his well-kept but old brogues Sherlock knew he’d never seen such a handsome man in his entire life.

For his part Sherlock chose a simple black suit, one of the many he owned but this one he’d worn right after he’d first come back and was the suit he’d had on when John forgave him for being dead. This was better than going out and purchasing expensive clothes they would never use again. Sherlock planned to wear this suit over and over again and it would always remind him of how lucky he was that John cared for him.

Sherlock didn’t feel like eating but John made a very large, very late breakfast. By dint of shamelessly taking advantage of Sherlock’s inability to resist his doctor John did as once threatened and straddled Sherlock’s thighs, feeding him one bite after another in between kisses until their meal was done, “My last chance to feed you up while you’re still my boyfriend.”

“I’m afraid you missed that moment John, since you’ve been my fiancé for at least half our relationship now.” John laughed and nodded, “Still, this is our last morning together before we’re married. We’ll never be not-married after this.”

John’s face took on that soft sweet look that Sherlock looked forward to and the doctor kissed Sherlock once more, “For someone who knows nothing of romance you sure know how to say the loveliest things.”

“It’s the simple truth.” said Sherlock. “You’re about to make me the happiest man in the world, I cannot imagine how I could ever be convinced to not be married to you. I love you John, you are quite literally the only man for me.”

John was smiling hugely once more, “Well I can say the same thing right back Sherlock. I love you too and I think today can’t happen fast enough. This afternoon seems far away.” It seemed even further when they arrived at the train station and had to deal with the immediately sobbing Mrs. Watson who clung to her son and gabbled unintelligibly for a minute, “Mum,” said John, disengaging himself a bit, “This is my fiancé, Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is my mother, Linda Watson.”

Mrs. Watson was a small woman, barely five feet tall and that was with wearing heavily soled shoes. She was plainly dressed in slacks and a long gracious cardigan, her hair neatly tucked into a modest chignon, her care-worn face accenting blue eyes that also graced her son’s face. Sherlock had seen her from afar at John’s wedding to Mary but she had been swallowed up in the crowd of tittering women who had surrounded the bride, “Mrs. Watson, it is a very great honor to make your acquaintance at long last.” said Sherlock gravely.

John’s mother blinked at him owlishly, “Does he always talk like that John? He sounds like one of those public school boys.”

John laughed and hugged his mother tight, “He is one mum, Sherlock’s not what you’re used to I’ll admit but well…we have a lot to tell you.” As expected they took John’s mother to tea and explained what their plans for the afternoon were.

She burst into tears all over again and cried into Sherlock’s scarf, “Oh! It’s so romantic! Oh John, this is just lovely, simply lovely. I wish your sister would have come though, you did ask her didn’t you John?”

“Yes mum but Harry hasn’t called back.” John looked a bit down about that, “She was pretty angry with me when my marriage to Mary fell through and she got even madder when I told her I was getting married to Sherlock.”

“Well Harry will probably make up for it after, the way she always does. Don’t let it darken your day. I must say this is a bit of a shock, however did you manage to arrange things so quickly?” They took their tea and told her about Sherlock’s family. Soon enough their time was gone and suddenly they needed to go. Mrs. Watson’s tears had dried up and now she patted Sherlock affectionately on the hand whenever she spoke to him and beamed over to John happily.

Sooner than Sherlock expected their time was soon up and it was time to go. They needed to make their way through London to make their meeting with everyone and as they climbed into their taxi Sherlock was finally struck with nerves. He was sitting beside Mrs. Watson in the middle and John on the far side. They were driving to get to their wedding where Sherlock would pledge himself to John in front of everyone who mattered, telling them to their faces how he planned on loving and honoring John for the rest of his days.

How could John ever accept a promise like that from someone like _Sherlock_ who was a known liar, deceiver, and heartless near-sociopath? What could possibly make someone as pure and good as John, someone as honorable and admirable as this seasoned soldier, this kindly healer, this bright light, how could someone like _John_ rest his heart in the hands of such as he? Sherlock would love John until the end of his days but how would he hurt John in that time? How many ways was Sherlock capable of rending John to shreds with a careless comment, a thoughtless deed? Suddenly Mrs. Watson was patting his hand again, “John’s late father James was so worried on our wedding day. He didn’t feel like he could do it no matter how much he wanted to. He had his problems, rest his soul, but he tried his hardest and that’s what mattered in the end. People make mistakes, we’re human, but if you at least try, even if you fail, it makes a difference. I can’t imagine anyone who’s tried harder than you two have and you haven’t even gotten married yet.”

“Aw mum!” said John who put his arm around his parent to squeeze her shoulder, “Thanks mum, Sherlock is really settling for less here but he seems to want to so I don’t know.” John’s wink was teasing over Linda’s head and Sherlock felt a bit of his worry ebb away.

He smile back at his soldier, “I’m most certainly not the one who is settling for less but as your mother advised I will try very hard to make up for my many lacks.” John reached his hand over and put it on Sherlock’s shoulder so he reached up and gripped his lover’s hand hard for a moment before they went back to sitting normally.

Once they arrived at the park it was only a short walk until they met up with their group. They looked like any other small gathering in the park, Mycroft stood next to his parents chatting with a sober looking older man in a dark suit, Greg was there and he was chatting with Molly, both of them wearing their work clothes, and Mrs. Hudson was already present and she was busy chattering to Mummy and Sieger, “We’re here.” called John and everyone turned and smiled hello at his mother who received a round of effusive introductions.

When it was done Lestrade frowned at them, “Right you two, no one will tell me why I had to take the rest of the day off and Molls is on her lunch-break from work without even a cuppa so what gives?” the silver-haired DI was very fond of Molly. She was two years older than his favorite niece and he treated her as if she were one of the brood his brother and sister had produced.

“Lestrade, please stand beside my brother, Mrs. Hudson if you would be so kind as to stand next to Doctor Hooper, Mrs. Watson, if it pleases you would you mind terribly standing with my parents?” Sherlock smiled down at his soon-to-be mother-in-law who nodded and took her place. Lestrade and Molly got a very surprised look on their face when John and Sherlock merely took a position in front of the man in the suit who began without prompting.

It was very simple, merely a few key statements read out from a small card provided where they declared themselves to everyone and stated their intentions. They had slipped off their rings before they’d met up with John’s mother and now each man placed it properly back on the finger of his new husband. After exchanging a very chaste kiss both men were a bit red of eye but smiling so hard everyone smiled with them. When it was done the man in the suit had them sign all the relevant forms with Mycroft and Greg serving as official witnesses before they turned and looked at everyone in attendance. Sherlock was a bit startled at the large amount of calm that seemed to settle itself inside him. Suddenly the chaos that was his mind in constant battle with itself stilled and reoriented itself as his conscious absorbed the paradigm altering fact. He was married.

John seemed as stunned as he was. It had all been very well and fine to wish for it before it happened but now that it was done Sherlock was struck with the sheer enormity of what they’d promised one another and all the calm vanished. Promising to return quickly Sherlock took his new husband by the hand and nearly dragged him away, “I think I’m panicking John.” said Sherlock. His hands were shaking.

“Delayed shock.” said John and pulled Sherlock in for a long and soothing hug, rubbing Sherlock’s back and just holding him. Sherlock didn’t care who could see them, they’d just gotten married and the very least that could be expected from them was an embrace. “It’s alright Sherlock, you’re alright. This was a very big step we just took but we did it together right? We’ll be okay, or okay-ish. We do get into trouble a lot but that’s what makes it fun, yeah?” Sherlock smiled into John’s hair where he had his face hidden. John was right. This was a big step but they’d already done it and really, nothing would change. He’d still love John even if they weren’t married and marriage was really just a way of telling everyone instantly that they were a package deal, a completed set, a functioning whole. He nodded and stood straighter. John smiled up at him, his eyes soft and warm, “This is a lot even for me, it’s alright to be a bit overtaken by it all. It’s done though, we can go feed the ducks if you want.”

John took Sherlock’s hand and led him further away and spent a few quiet minutes by the water watching the birds swim back and forth busily. Sherlock enjoyed the sounds and sights of the park, “We’ll be able to enjoy moments like this for a very long time together.”

“Lots and lots of them Sherlock, this is what I like, our little moments like this. We do so many things but this is the bit that makes it worth it. Whenever we’re in a bad spot I remember times like this, our walks in the parks, or when we go out to do something just to spend time, or when we stay in just to be together. You know you’ve been my best mate for years; all my favorite memories of London have you in them. These are the memories I save, these are the things that make me happy.”

Sherlock realized it was the same for him. He’d lived in London a long time, had learned to love and appreciate its many layers and stories but until he’d met John Sherlock would not have been able to point at any part of the ancient city and explain how he remembered it because one day John had made him laugh in public for the first time ever, or the time they’d both been distracted and been startled by a clown heading to a children’s party and neither man admitted how’d they’d felt momentarily afraid but _knew_ anyway, they’d never spoken of it but had still laughed and remembered every time they went there. London was now filled with memories of John and Sherlock together; stake-outs in dank alleys, creeping around abandoned buildings, charging into the Yard, all manner of things that stood out boldly in Sherlock’s memories unlike any other experiences he’d had in his life. Before John there was only bleakness and a loneliness so complete Sherlock didn’t even understand that he was missing something vital in his life. Sherlock bent his head and kissed John softly, “I will do my best to be a good husband to you, and to make sure we keep making memories together for as long as we can.”

“Don’t forget the danger part.”

“I won’t forget the danger part; we can hardly help that bit.”

“True enough. Have we been sentimental long enough?”

“I believe so, let’s go John. Mrs. Hudson shouldn’t stand so long.”

“Whatever you want _husband_.” said John with a cheeky wink which just earned him a kiss so searing that the soldier looked a bit dazed when it was done, “You little devil! Save that for later.”

“That’s a promise John. Come along _husband_ , we have people waiting.” they linked arms and strolled back to the smiling group that waited for them, “Thank you everyone for coming to witness our union.”

John and Sherlock exchanged hugs from everyone present, including a hearty slap on the back from Lestrade who was beaming proudly at both of them, “Thanks for letting me come, this is a great reason to not be at work. No one is going to believe me.”

“We needed you to witness it on behalf of the Yard. Take a picture, words don’t seem to work on Anderson.” said Sherlock. Lestrade became the unofficial wedding photographer as he snapped shots of everyone in varying combinations including close-ups of their rings side-by-side. “You will accompany us to dinner to continue witnessing the facts of the matter.”

“Thanks Sherlock, I’d love to come to your wedding dinner.” Lestrade went to speak to Mycroft, the older man’s warm brown eyes becoming even warmer as he smiled at the elder Holmes brother.

Sherlock and John said good-bye to Molly who had to get back to work, “Thank you for taking the time to come today. I feel you should know that the radiologist who analyzes your x-rays for you wants to ask you out but has so far not yet worked up the nerve. He also is one of the organizers for a group that fosters cats out for people who are traveling; his alternate address is the same as listed for _Paws Pause_ , which essentially is a cat hotel. You will find he has a cat of his own named McGuire.”

“Oh! My cat’s name is Toby!” Molly looked so surprised. They escorted her to a taxi where Sherlock shook her hand but John gave her a hug, “I’ll be seeing him this shift. Maybe I’ll ask him.”

“Very well Doctor Hooper.” said Sherlock politely. Molly left with a smile and a hopeful expression.

“That was very convenient Sherlock. Why didn’t you point it out sooner?” asked John as they made their way over to the crowd that was beginning to get into two of Mycroft’s long black cars.

“I’ve only seen the man a single time, I haven’t had a chance to speak to Doctor Hooper.” until she was safely married on her own Sherlock was going to make sure to maintain the stiffest formality with Molly, her crushes tended to get stronger with time. He anticipated great success with the radiologist who’s devotion to cats was nearly as great as Doctor Hooper’s.

Mycroft had used his influence and booked them a small room at a lovely restaurant that featured a widely varied menu. Mrs. Hudson had brought the Banoffee pies from the shop so after their meal was concluded everyone shared them around, the conversations flowing easily among everyone in attendance. Sherlock only had eyes for John though, barely paying attention to what was being said because John simply shone with happiness as he chatted around, his hand firmly in Sherlock’s. Finally Mrs. Hudson’s voice broke through his euphoria, “Well I need to get to the station, I’m going to see my sister this weekend. I was supposed to have left this morning but she didn’t mind waiting a bit.”

Lestrade offered to see her to the station which she happily accepted and Sherlock didn’t miss Mycroft’s almost too casual offer to meet up for drinks later which Lestrade, with equal casualness agreed to. Mrs. Hudson left after kissing John and Sherlock one last time, a huge smile on her face.

“Linda we would love to have you come out with us tonight. Sieger and I were going to enjoy some of the city entertainments and it’s always so much better if we have someone to tell our old stories to, would you like that?” Linda and Violet had fallen in together with ease and John’s mother nodded, “We’ll let the boys get on with their evening. I’m sure they’ve had enough of everyone’s company.”

There was a hustle and bustle suddenly as everyone got up. Mycroft took care of the bill and escorted all the parents to their waiting cars. They piled into one after hugging Sherlock and John farewell. John’s mother looked up at him, “I’m very proud of you my son. We’ll visit sometime very soon.” she kissed both of them goodbye.

Sieger and Violet hugged both of them warmly but said nothing, just following Linda inside and leaving Mycroft to shake their hands and give them his best. John was so pleased with everything that Sherlock didn’t exactly expect the sudden shift in temperature when Mycroft’s car drove away and they were inside their own car and heading back to Baker Street. John’s mood went from charmingly happy to blisteringly hot, “Let’s get home love. We have a marriage to consummate.”

All the blood rushed from Sherlock’s head to his groin again and he was almost dizzy from the speed of it. He was grateful the privacy screen was already up because John was nearly sitting on him and kissing Sherlock so fiercely that he could barely breathe. Sherlock could hear whimpers and begging words but it took him a minute to realize it was him making those needy sounds as John kissed and bit at every square inch of bared flesh he could find. By the time they were dropped off at Baker Street Sherlock was ready to rip the clothes off the doctor right there in the street. With muffled curses they managed the lock into 221 B Baker Street, slamming it shut behind them and left only the sound of two men nearly running up seventeen steps to lock themselves away for their first wedded night together.


	21. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day couldn't have been any nicer but what about the night?

Sherlock would never be able to recall their first minutes back at their flat at 221 B Baker Street with clarity. There were those frantic moments shoved up against the door with John almost growling at him and then somehow they were in the hallway minus their coats and shoes but Sherlock didn’t remember how that had happened because John had his legs wrapped around his waist as Sherlock thrust against his new husband who was pressed up against the wall to be ravaged in return. There was the long moment when they’d fallen through the doorway of the bedroom and just lay on the area carpet kissing and groping each other frantically before they began to yank at buttons and zippers, socks flying across the room chased by liberated pants and by accident, the sleeve of Sherlock’s shirt.

The duvet was tossed from the bed as the pair tumbled onto the sheets, both men nearly desperate with desire, their kisses broken by moans and sighs as they strove to touch each other in as many ways as possible at once. It wasn’t until they were face to face on the bed, their bodies twined together that the rage of passion slowed and shifted until they were locked together and rocking gently as they continued to kiss. John nipped at Sherlock’s lower lip and sucked at it softly, “I want you in me again.”

Oh god _John_. Sherlock had to close his eyes and press his face against John’s neck. It was almost too much, he loved John so much, it was nearly more than he could deal with right then but he let John kiss him over and over again until his hands were tracing their way over John’s form, “I was rather thinking it was my turn.” he said, his cheeks heating. He still couldn’t look at John but he wanted this. He wanted to give that last little bit of himself to John. All the fears Sherlock had about being taken had disappeared the very first time John had touched him. Sherlock would never be afraid of John, not for any reason.

John’s hand was stroking along Sherlock’s cheekbones, encouraging him to turn his face upward, “You’re afraid of it, I wouldn’t want that for you.”

John, sweet surprising marvelous understanding John, Sherlock had to kiss his soldier for being so flawlessly noble. Sherlock twisted around until his thigh was rubbing over John’s erection as the rest of Sherlock undulated against his lover’s body, “I want this, you, I want _you_ John. I’ve never wanted _anyone_ , not for anything. You are my great exception to every rule I have ever lived by, with you I want _everything_.”

“How did I get so lucky?” breathed John and he sounded so amazed that Sherlock had to laugh softly.

“I ask myself that all the time for it is I who am the fortunate one John.” Sherlock shifted until he was astride John, his hips ghosting up and down over the hard heat of John’s flesh as Sherlock kissed John delicately, “I want to give you everything John. _Take it_.”

Sherlock never forgot what happened next. John flexed everywhere it seemed and suddenly Sherlock was on his belly, legs wide and John was pressed to his back. Sherlock shuddered with the intensity of the arousal he felt. He was one of the few who knew John Watson’s secret strength, his small and unimposing body a powerhouse and if it ever came down to it, Sherlock knew he never be able to fend off John, no matter how hard he tried. It would never come to that, he knew it in his bones, John was made to protect and shelter Sherlock. He had never been safer.

John lay still for a moment just breathing hard into the back of Sherlock’s neck, his full weight resting easily and the warmth of his skin making Sherlock tingle, the heavy weight of John’s cock against his arse causing Sherlock to lift his hips reflexively pushing eagerly into the hardness. John kissed the back of Sherlock’s neck as he lifted himself slowly off of the man beneath him. The soldier was deliberate about it, beginning at his chest and arching his back until the only part of John Sherlock could feel was the mouth that was tracing delicate patterns on Sherlock’s shoulder-blades, “You are beautiful Sherlock. You take my breath away, you always have. You’re like one of those marble statues, so perfect that I should have you sculpted because you’re the kind of beautiful that lasts for centuries.”

Sherlock flushed crimson, was John serious? John continued, pausing between words to kiss or taste Sherlock’s back as he made his way downward, “I love the way your body curves in just slightly, the lines of your shape are perfect, I could do nothing but look at you all day and be perfectly happy, that’s how beautiful you are.”

John was a terrible tease. A trail of kisses had led to the lower part of Sherlock’s back but instead of continuing down to where Sherlock wanted him John ran his tongue up Sherlock’s spine with deliberation until he made his way back to the nape of Sherlock’s neck. John seemed to know exactly how to run his fingers through the curls of Sherlock’s hair and used his handful to pull Sherlock’s head back until John could kiss his mouth. Sherlock’s scalp had turned out to be as surprisingly sensitive as his nipples and John’s grip seemed to send a dual jolt of energy and weakness through the detective.

Sherlock realized dimly that John was displaying dominant behavior, most likely unconsciously and with a full body shudder Sherlock understood that he had never been so turned on in his life. This was John and with John Sherlock could be free to do absolutely anything because with John in control they would _always_ be okay because John kept him right, he always had. This would be no different. Sherlock allowed his head to dip downward, exposing his neck as much as he was able to and was intensely gratified when John took the offered submission instantly, sucking a hard kiss high onto Sherlock’s neck, marking him visibly. Sherlock shuddered again and nearly came on the spot. He suffered the same reaction after John growled, “Your body is beautiful but not nearly as gorgeous as that incredible head of yours. It turns me on, it really does, watching you work things out, my brilliant man, my fucking genius amazing incredible man. What goes on in that head of yours love? So many things, so very many things, fuck…” John moved quickly once more and turned Sherlock to face him so Sherlock could enjoy the snogging of his life.

John kept Sherlock on his back, thighs as wide as they could get so John could access Sherlock completely. John was ravenous and unstoppable now. The carefully tempered fury of his lust was threatening to shatter and even as Sherlock fell apart he took in impression after impression of how John looked that night. His face was ruddy but filled with fierce concentration, his brows knitted and his mouth working over Sherlock’s abdomen, following the flat muscles downward until John’s face was shamelessly buried in Sherlock’s pubic hair, rooting and tasting. Dear lord that man’s tongue!

Sherlock was barely aware of the rest of his body except that it struggled to contain the intensity of arousal John was inflicting upon it, all of Sherlock’s attention was focused on John who currently had one of Sherlock’s testicles in his mouth, tonguing it softly, sucking so gently that Sherlock could not help the soft helpless sound he made. John was quick and efficient when he released Sherlock so he could snag an unused pillow to tuck under Sherlock’s hips. John was proving to be a very oral man. Sherlock was now completely incapable of forming rational thought; he was processing base sensation only. He took in the shapes and colors of his bedroom as his eyes darted here and there before constantly returning to John, he breathed in the perfume of their combined bodies, the air thick with lust and desire. Sherlock was surrounded by the scent of John and it was intoxicating. Sherlock’s skin felt tight, his nerves jangling with tension.

It seemed an eternity before John finally began, that warm wet tongue testing and tasting its way into Sherlock’s body. John’s words had stopped but the noises he made, if Sherlock could have blushed more he would have. John’s growls were appreciative and noisy, he was obviously enjoying this as much as Sherlock was. Sherlock’s legs stayed wide, he was completely incapable of moving himself, so focused was he on how John was opening him.

John used saliva for the first finger, laving Sherlock generously over and over again as the doctor coaxed his way inward with as much speed as he could allow. Sherlock was anxious for more but John would only rush so much. Seeing the top of John’s head, like this, so far between his thighs that Sherlock couldn’t make out any other part of his face was the most astounding thing Sherlock had ever witnessed. When the soldier finally pulled back to retrieve the lube Sherlock had to suck in several deep breaths to try and steady himself.

John slicked his erection before coating two fingers and adding extra lube. He knelt beside Sherlock at first, leaning over and kissing his lover as his fingers began to press inward. John drank in Sherlock’s sighs and moans as his hand moved rhythmically, his fingers scissoring, working slowly to ease the way. John’s fingers brushed past Sherlock’s prostate and Sherlock nearly launched off the bed, “Shh…sorry love, sorry, you’re so sensitive.” John kissed Sherlock soothingly and moved to kneel between Sherlock’s legs, “I’ll go slowly.”

Sherlock nodded, John kept his fingers inside Sherlock for as long as possible before withdrawing enough to press the head of his cock against Sherlock’s entrance. Sherlock was acutely aware of the breadth of it, how blunt and hot it was and for a second his eyes widened in panic. It was too big, _too big_ , this would _never_ work and he realized he was shaking his head and speaking his worries out loud as the sensual haze evaporated and reality slammed unpleasantly back into place. John had pulled away a bit but lay on Sherlock to kiss him until he was calmer, “I’m not a big man Sherlock. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to but trust me, I’ve taken you and your cock is much bigger than mine, you can do this if you choose.”

Sherlock felt embarrassed now and covered his face with his hands but John just pulled them away and kissed Sherlock softly one again, “I do want this John, I do. Perhaps I am bigger than you. I can’t help that but you _aren’t_ small, at least not to me. If anything it’s too much.” John’s cock was far larger than the toys Sherlock preferred.

For some reason Sherlock’s fears made John’s face all soft again, his eyes shining and happy looking, “I’m too much for you?” Sherlock nodded, his face trying to burn right off his head. “I can tell you for a _fact_ no one has ever said that to me before.”

“People place ridiculous value on _size_ when _quality_ should be the target.” said Sherlock softly. The weight and heat of John’s body on his was very relaxing and Sherlock felt calmer, more accepting. The happiness in John’s face was quickly eroding the anxiety Sherlock had experienced, allowing him to recall that even if they’d paused his transport was still primed and waiting, “I’ve never wanted big John. You may think yourself a small man but in my eyes you are anything but. I can tell _you_ for a fact that I have examined my options and know for certain what my preferences are, and it is not extensive size that matters to me.” Sherlock had proof to substantiate his claim only a few inches beneath their bodies, he’d show John later.

John’s answer was to press his hips forward as Sherlock relaxed and accepted him, their mouths closed but tight together, eyes closed as John took Sherlock. He wrapped his arms around John as much as he could and allowed him entrance. It felt strange at first, almost burning, hot and so heavy. Sherlock could feel the weight of John’s cock as it slid inward; felt a strange almost popping sensation as the glans was enveloped by Sherlock’s body. John gasped and had to stop for second before resuming his push inward. It was so much easier than Sherlock had anticipated; apart from that small burn in the beginning he had experienced no actual discomfort.

Sherlock realized he was in John’s lap; legs spread wide, John’s cock buried entirely in his ass, the doctor’s head pressed to Sherlock’s chest as both men held each other tight and just felt. John rolled his hips the tiniest bit and all the electric sparks that had faded came sizzling back into life, “Oh god you’re inside me!” it seemed the silliest thing in the world to say but Sherlock couldn’t help but say it.

“I’m never leaving.” said John hotly. He rolled his hips again and Sherlock had to groan, that was the loveliest sensation he’d ever experienced, “You’re so fucking tight. I’ve never felt someone like this before.”

John pulled back and sank in again, making Sherlock exhale in a rush as all the tingles in his body seemed to collect in his hips. John pulled back and did it again, rolling gently to move himself. John then settled his knees differently, spreading them wider and lifting himself up to rest on his hands; he drew back and thrust in hard. Sherlock saw stars as the head of John’s cock pushed at his prostate. John’s cock was exactly long enough to nudge at it without over-stimulating Sherlock and it was the most heavenly feeling Sherlock had ever experienced. It was exactly perfect when John did it again, and it kept being perfect each and every time John sheathed himself in Sherlock’s ass.

John was fucking Sherlock now. They weren’t _making love_ , they were _fucking_ and Sherlock loved it. John’s body hammered into his and each bounce on the bed made Sherlock’s hips snap back a bit. Both men were sweating profusely but they only cared about how hard they could go, how long they could make it last, how loud Sherlock could get when John gyrated his hips in a circle. Suddenly John pulled out completely, flipped Sherlock around without a word and simply mounted him.

It was raw and wild then, John grasping a handful of Sherlock’s hair with one hand and gripping his hip almost painfully tight, his cock pounding into Sherlock as hard as he could manage. Sherlock was nearly shouting, encouraging John to be rougher, sliding his knees wider so John could move easier. Suddenly the angle of John’s thrusts changed and the soldier groaned with what sounded like distress except that Sherlock could feel something hot and wet inside him. John was coming; John was filling Sherlock with his seed. Sherlock instantly recollected what John’s behind had looked like when Sherlock had pulled out, how the spill of white had trickled down and then everything seemed to focus on his cock, and with a mighty shout Sherlock bucked and heaved beneath John, clamping down hard on John’s cock as he rutting into the sheets. Sherlock came so hard that he blacked out for a moment.

When he was finally able to open his eyes he could see that John was now lying beside him, also face down, sweaty and almost unconscious looking. Sherlock felt incredible, worn out and satisfied in a way he’d never experienced before. Sherlock managed a weak smile which John returned, “I think I’m a bottom John.”

That made John laugh, the doctor barely able to wheeze out his giggles as Sherlock lay face down and grinned into the sheets. He floundered an inch or two closer but he was so hot and so tired he couldn't move anymore so he just lay where he was and enjoyed the blatant happiness on John’s face, “Well we’re going to have to work out a system of some kind because I like it too.”

“I think you liked fucking me more.” said Sherlock with a knowing smirk and enjoyed the flush that covered John’s face.

It took a moment but John finally nodded, “Yeah, I liked this more. Your arse is amazing. I’d be in it twenty-four hours a day if we could manage somehow.”

“It would make The Work a bit awkward.”

“And visiting with your parents. That would be weird.”

“Mycroft would be following us on CCTV all the time.”

“He does that already.”

“Dining out would be unfeasible.”

“Taxis, you’d never be able to tip them enough.”

“We could probably manage the Tube, though we’d get some pretty sharp looks.”

“Imagine interviewing clients.”

They giggled and joked for a while longer before John felt like his legs worked enough to help Sherlock whose legs emphatically did not work well any longer. They slithered out of bed and into the bathroom where John got Sherlock into a hot bath. The doctor washed himself off quickly at the sink before going to change their bedding. He rejoined Sherlock and just climbed into the tub with him, lying back against Sherlock’s chest and sighing with contentment.

When the water cooled John made Sherlock take two pre-emptive paracetamols before he took Sherlock back to bed to sleep. More kisses and words of devotions were exchanged as they curled around each other, the fresh sheets cool and relaxing and held each other close, John’s hand planted over Sherlock’s scar, Sherlock’s arms holding the soldier close to his chest. They were still looking at one another when their eyes drooped closed for the night, both men smiling softly as they dreamed the hours away.

 

 

 


	22. Glimpses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have thoroughly consummated their marriage but their time isn't quite their own yet. They have an obligation to attend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you Geekishchic for the prompt on this chapter. I worked it in as best I could.  
> Always thanks to Ravenwolf36 who keeps me going day after day.
> 
> I love you guys <3

Sherlock woke well before John, the need for the bathroom unescapable. Sherlock’s nether region ached in an overused way, and every move Sherlock made seemed to be connected to his groin. It wasn’t really painful, just stiff as his body adjusted to being active in a whole new way. By the time Sherlock climbed into the shower he was feeling tender but alright, wincing just a bit as he washed his tender behind. John still wasn’t awake by the time Sherlock got out and by then the hastily swallowed paracetamols he’d taken the second he’d woken had kicked in. Sherlock went back to the bedroom.

John was sleeping on his back, his arms and legs flung wide as his sleeping body took advantage of all the newly available room on the mattress. Sherlock smiled to wickedly because parts of John were waking up first and Sherlock was in the mood to indulge himself. After all, this was their first day as newlyweds; it was practically expected of him.

Sherlock drew back the sheet and examined his target. John’s cock had filled out and was slowly hardening, lifting away from the doctor’s body as it grew. Sherlock decided to help it along and with no further ado bent his head and enjoyed the feel of John’s cock pushing his mouth wide open. So far there hadn’t been a single thing they’d done that Sherlock hadn’t enjoyed but sucking John’s cock was in a class of its own, “Oh god you’re killing me.” moaned John who had woken up quickly. Sherlock hummed agreeably which just made John moan more.

Sherlock kept it slow. He enjoyed the way the head of John’s cock felt as it slid over his soft palate, the way it tasted on his tongue and the way it bumped over the back of his mouth. He liked the way it felt to push down as far as he could go to bury his face in John’s pubes, almost unable to take it all before pulling back, enjoying the rich scent of John, the taste. He was almost sorry when John began to pant and grunt, his hips jerking a bit before Sherlock’s mouth filled with thick hot bitter seed that he allowed to slide down his throat. Licking John as clean as he could Sherlock finally moved up to lie beside his lover, “Good morning my husband.”

“Best alarm clock _ever_ ,” sighed John, his eyes closed and a flush on his cheek. Sherlock crawled up and snuggled up to John who held him tight and lay there completely relaxed for only a moment before the doctor was returning the favor. John was rude and naughty, clearly enjoying making Sherlock blush nearly as much as he enjoyed making Sherlock gasp. By the time the doctor had Sherlock crying out his release he’d made Sherlock flush with compliments over his flavor, his size, his reactions, just everything.

For the first time a particular thought occurred the Sherlock, “You’ve never asked to use a condom.” John was a careful lover, years of cohabitation had let Sherlock see many an empty box that once contained condoms in the bin, he knew John was conscientious about safety. Sherlock hadn’t even considered that aspect; he’d just allowed everything happened without a moment’s hesitation.

“Thanks to everything that’s happened to you I’ve seen your blood panel more than enough to know you’re clean. After I split with Mary I had one done and a follow up as well just in case. I haven’t been with anyone intimately since then and I’m clean. I suppose it wasn’t very good of me to just assume you were okay with not bothering; I really should have talked to you about it. Getting carried away isn’t really a good excuse.” John sounded apologetic.

Sherlock responded instantly, “You would never endanger me John; I know this without needing to ask. At any rate I rather enjoyed how everything played out and since we’re married _and monogamous_ I don’t expect we’ll ever need to bother, unless we just want to.” There was an interesting variety out there though. Sherlock had never bothered examining the options because there had never been anyone in his life to bother _with_ , but now…

“Yes we are married _and monogamous_ but since you are Sherlock Holmes can I expect an influx of every condom known to man to suddenly make an appearance in the flat just to satisfy your curiosity?” Sherlock blushed once more; John really did know him so well.

“Well not all of them but a few experiments wouldn’t go amiss, especially with my assistant helping me gather data.” that sounded like a lot of fun to both of them so a fair amount of time was frittered away in bed as they kissed and teased one another about potential condom related experiments that could be done until John needed to get up and their day began.

Sherlock showered with John just because he could and went with John when the soldier got his hair neatly trimmed at the barber, ate a very late breakfast out with him, and when they went home Sherlock lay on John’s abandoned bed to watch his husband dress for his company’s banquet. John wore what he explained was mess dress and while that didn’t sound very tidy John looked incredibly fit in it. The short dark red jacket and black trousers complimented John’s warrior physique and made Sherlock acutely aware of the sort of person he’d married. It wasn’t until he began to pin his medals on that Sherlock sat right up, unable to stay away any longer. John looked incredible, “You’ve never let me look at your medals.”

“That’s true.” John kept pinning them on, there were a fair amount. It was everything Sherlock could do not to wrap himself around John, remove everything he was wearing, throwing his soldier down and try to break his hobbit bed.

“Why?” Sherlock had to distract himself. He couldn’t indulge in lustful thoughts right now, no matter how luscious John’s behind looked or how his tummy was enticingly curved out just a touch and oh, the way John’s trousers fit across the front. Sherlock bit his lip and restrained himself further but his hands twitched.

“I guess I didn’t want to talk about them at the time and when you get started you don’t stop asking questions. I had a rough time leaving the army, I didn’t want to. Seeing my medals just reminds me that I’ll never have that life again and sometimes I really miss it.” Sherlock felt a pang deep inside and before he knew it he was behind John and kissing his over the spot where John’s scar was hidden, “I wouldn’t trade it for this life though, it was worth everything to get where I am today.”

Oh John! Sherlock kissed John’s cheek careful not to muss him and the look they shared said everything about how they loved one another. Sherlock smiled and stepped back reluctantly, “I won’t take long.” Sherlock went to his room and dug through his clothes, pulling on well-fitted gray trousers that came with a matching waistcoat. He kept digging until he found a velvet jacket that was darkly beautiful, and sought a crisp white shirt to go with everything. He quickly went through his ties but settled on a black bow tie instead, not his usual choice but one he felt was the right one. John seemed to agree, the soldier was standing in the doorway with a look of intense admiration on his face. Sherlock smiled, “Fit for the Queen.”

“You went to the palace in a _sheet_. I’m glad my old company rates an entire outfit.” John and Sherlock giggled together again. Sherlock still had the ashtray. It was sitting on the fire escape where he smoked, which was rarely now. He didn’t seem to need it the way he used to and he was fine with that. Even if he gave it up entirely he’d always keep the ashtray.

“You look very dashing John.” He really did. Sherlock looked down on his husband proudly; John was every inch a soldier still.

“You look entirely too good to take anywhere but unless we want Bill to come looking for us we’d better get going.” Heaven forbid that _Bill Murray_ ever entered their home! Sherlock took John’s arm and let his soldier lead him away. They caught a taxi and enjoyed the long ride to the venue everyone was gathering at.

It seemed like there were hundreds of people in attendance, all the soldiers dressed in formal wear of varying degrees of importance, their badges and insignia all firmly in place as groups mingled to shake hands and renew old acquaintances. Family’s followed after, wives or husbands on the arms of their own soldiers, sometimes older children who could bear a long formal ceremony. Sherlock was introduced to dozens of people, all who kept moving as John made his way from one person to the next with facility.

Bill and Cam found them after the first hour had drifted by; they had sodas in their hands and were grinning down at John. Sherlock stood tall beside his husband and smiled politely at the pair after exchanging greetings, “You will not believe whose ugly mug is on display! Seriously John, come look at this.” Bill led them through the crowd with Cam bringing up the rear. He stopped in front of a display of poster-sized pictures that depicted various altercations endured by the company meeting today, “Just look at that. I wonder how many people are going to have flashbacks from seeing your face. That’s just not right.”

Sherlock was astounded. It was John. John in field kit, unshaved and dirty, carrying a large weapon of some sort, debris was flying through the air, bursts of flame as well. John’s tanned cheek bore a reddened score mark from something that had torn across it and Sherlock looked at his husband’s cheek though he knew the mark was not visible. He’d never noticed it so it had healed cleanly. John had clearly been in the middle of a fire-fight but the doctor’s face was determined, calm, focused and Sherlock nearly swooned. His soldier! John! The image seared into Sherlock’s brain. This was the man who had decided to cleave himself to Sherlock, ex-drug addict, social outcast, _freak_. John was a hero, a real hero.

In the picture John was holding his weapon competently, as if he were used to holding it, like it was a part of him. At the same time Sherlock could see in John’s face the same endless caring he had whenever he looked after a patient, that look he got that assured whoever was in his hands that he would not stop until he wasn’t needed any more. Even with the tumult of war around him John was still the center of the storm, an endless calm that walked on two legs and brought life or death as needed. Sherlock felt dizzy.

The image would not leave him, even after John led him by the hand to their seats where they watched, or rather John watched, the presentation of medals, and listened, or rather John listened, to the speeches given that lauded the bravery of all until rousing applause broke through into Sherlock’s mind palace and shook him awake from the near trance he’d been in. He joined in the applause and regretted not paying attention. This was important to John, “Back with me?” said John with a smile and Sherlock flushed, “It’s okay Sherlock.”

“Apologies John, that was extremely rude of me.” John was so unbelievable! Sherlock’s cheeks would never cool; John made him blush all the time. Oh god Sherlock was _the bride_! All he needed to do was burn dinner and the stereotype would be complete.

“You might want to pay attention to the next few minutes. Wait here okay?” Sherlock nodded and sat back in his seat as John’s name was called. What? John walked right up to the podium, back straight, his face as calm as ever.

A very dignified and heavily medaled elderly man was speaking to John but he didn’t quite have the microphone close enough so Sherlock couldn’t hear what was going on. The man was attaching something to John’s jacket, and applause broke out, everyone standing to clap hard. Suddenly Cam was beside Sherlock, slipping into John’s seat to whisper to him, “This is only the fourth one they’ve ever given out.”

“What was it?” Sherlock had to know.

“A second Victoria Cross. Only 28 people have ever earned it, until John only three people ever earned a second one.” _Oh my god John_. Sherlock’s head swiveled back to the stage where John was now receiving salutes as everyone stood to honor him. Sherlock was going to explode with pride. “Why?”

Cam seemed to understand so while John was still being honored she whispered the story to him. “It was just a pick-up, the area was supposed to be clean but it wasn’t. It happens. All hell breaks loose and there’s shit just blowing up left right and center. We had on these helmet cameras, you know; capture the battle on film type deal. Anyway there’s John, people are dropping all around us. It was fucking horrible.” she fell silent for a minute, “John was a medic, he’s not supposed to raise a weapon unless it’s life or death. He never did. Each and every time John has taken a shot it’s because there was no other choice, it was always us or them, and he always tried to find another way. He’s cool about it. Once the decision is made he’ll just kill. Wham. You’re dead. He doesn’t hesitate, he never misses, and it’s always fatal. The day that picture was taken…we lost two thirds of our group that day but we would have all been lost if it hadn’t been for John. He was covered in blood, he was bleeding himself. How he managed not to get shot that time out was a miracle but I guess he cashed in all his luck because he was shot the next time he went out and we haven’t really seen him since then. I’ve seen a lot of soldiers flame out after they come home but you’ve kept him going. Keep doing that. There needs to be more of John Watson in the world.” Cam patted Sherlock’s hand and left without letting Sherlock say another word.

John made his way back to his seat, shaking hands with the crowds of people who were standing now that the presentation was over, and Sherlock just stared at him, “John. John you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. I love you so much and I can’t express how extremely humble and proud I am that you chose me. Congratulations on your medal my love, from what I hear it was very well deserved.” Sherlock wished he had John’s way with words and though he had an impressive lexicon at his disposal, nothing seemed adequate enough to compliment John Watson with.

Bill entirely ruined the gravity of the moment by wiggling up and eyeballing Sherlock suggestively, a huge leer on his face. Bill struck a pose and winked at Sherlock, “Hey beautiful, tired of His Tininess yet? I know they just gave him a new shiny but I’m betting I can show you something even more distracting,” Bill deliberately stepped between John and Sherlock and smiled again, “I’ve been told that I’m incredibly stimulating to hang around with.”

“How many places can you calculate Pi to? John is up to five.” asked Sherlock.

“What? Pie? You cut pie into six pieces don’t you?” Bill was taken aback.

“If a body has been separated into parts, how much of an average sized human corpse can you fit inside a 209 litre capacity refrigerator?”

“You want to put a body in a fridge?” Bill looked more than a bit startled now.

“If you met a man who had been clearly identified as a sociopath by the authorities how long would you wait before signing a flat-lease with him?”

“Why would I want to live with someone like that?”

“What do you understand of the terms _demisexual_ and _sapiosexual_?” demanded Sherlock and now Bill was thoroughly rattled.

“They have the word sex in them? I don’t know, what do they mean?”

“I am _demisexual_. It means that I can only become physical with someone when I am emotionally involved with them and so far in my whole life the only person I have felt those sorts of feelings for is John Watson. Someone who is _sapiosexual_ is someone who is aroused by the intelligence of another. That would be John.  Bill Murray do you feel you can live up to the demands required to fulfill either of those definitions?”

Bill had visibly lost the swagger he’d had when he arrived. Cam was standing behind her best friend, both her hands over her mouth as she tried to keep from laughing out loud as Sherlock ripped a strip off her flirt of a best friend, “No.” he said, sounding for all the world like a very small boy.

“Are you going to stop hitting on me?”

“Yes.” that little boy voice was almost amusing.

“Immediately?” asked Sherlock sharply.

“Yes.” Bill was looking at his shoes again, and scuffing his foot. Cam was laughing outright, holding herself up by leaning on her best friend who let her.

“Very well. Since that’s sorted out would you like to join my husband and I for a drink? I believe we have his heroism to celebrate.”

“Can I call you Mrs. Watson?” asked Bill, recovering instantly now that he was no longer in trouble.

“I dare you to ask John.” said Sherlock and John glared at Bill.

“I’m going to say no.” Bill’s cheeky grin blossomed once more, “Can I call him Mrs. Holmes?”

“Yes. Come along Mrs. Holmes, time for drinks.” John rolled his eyes but took Sherlock’s arm like the gentleman he was and led their small group away. It was time to go have a bit of fun.

 

 

you can appreciate this graphic here:

http://crazyformartinfreeman.blogspot.ca/2013/06/its-friday-already-lets-do-something.html

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I did some basic research regarding what was appropriate to wear, and some more into the awarding of medals. This is the highest level of honor I could award my imaginary John and normally the Queen does that but I HEAVILY altered the facts to make it work so....I have no intentions of offending anyone in the military. I have HUGE love for those who are in service so please, if I've done something unforgivable give me a shot and try forgiving me anyway.


	23. Life is a Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has been awarded a new medal and now Sherlock gets to enjoy an evening on the arm of the most dashing soldier around.

John was modest. He didn’t want to talk about his medal. He let Sherlock fuss over him for only a few minutes before John insisted he stop, a request which didn’t sit well with the detective so he settled for maintaining an air of extreme pride because his husband deserved it. There were refreshments available at one end of the vast room they were in as live entertainment began on the other side, a dance floor already in use as friends old and new caught up with one another. The atmosphere was convivial and Sherlock found he appreciate the controlled chaos of the celebration. Everyone around him was dangerous yet every last one of them approached John with extreme respect. Sherlock stayed close to his treasure of a spouse and smiled.

“No one believes you Watson.” said Bill.

“That’s not my problem Murray.” said John.

“He’s too tall.” said Bill eying Sherlock.

“We manage.” said John.

“You’re not gay.” said Bill.

“Not anyone’s _business_ Bill.” said John, sounding a bit testy now.

“They’re going to notice, I mean you married _a man_ , people are going to naturally assume you’re gay.” Bill just could not help but be irritating. It seemed to be his only setting. “Does Sherlock know you slept with half the women here? Three of them are giving you the eye right now.”

Sherlock nearly stopped walking, his steps hitching just a bit but managed to continue on ever as Bill hissed out a pained protest from Cam who was too late for damage control. John’s arm tightened around his but Sherlock wasn’t happily relaxed any longer. His eyes darted around taking in one face after another and saw women, lots of women. Lots of women who looking at John in a way that was more than friendly, more than passing acquaintances or even friends like Cam, Bill was wrong. It wasn’t three women, it was seven displaying outright interest and Sherlock felt sick. He instantly dropped his arm and John sounded worried when he said, “Sherlock? Love? Listen. Sherlock? Can you hear me?”

Sherlock shook his head and walked away, his eyes searching around until he found the backlit sign that led him to the lavatory. He could hear Cam saying something in an angry voice but he wasn’t listening. He needed someplace to collect his wits, to get himself under control. He hadn’t thought of that at all, not even for a fleeting moment. How had he not? _Three Continents Watson_ was the nickname John had earned in the army. _The ARMY_. Where had Sherlock thought John was bringing him tonight? Of course he should have anticipated this. Who else would John have slept with? The chances for him to go on leave anywhere while in the service were few. He would have chosen from those around him, the women here. Half Bill had said. That meant possibly dozens of the women at this one event had carnal knowledge of his husband.

Sherlock threw up in the bathroom the second he got there. He couldn’t even explain what he was feeling, didn’t understand where the panic had come from, the despair, the anger. All he knew was something dark and ugly knotted up in his belly and he got sick all over again. John was hardly a virgin, Sherlock knew that but in a remote factual way. To be presented with the evidence so boldly had a much stronger effect on the detective than he ever could have anticipated especially since he had met many of John’s previous girlfriends. How many of _these_ women had cried out John’s name? How many mouths had he tasted? How many orgasms had he wrung out of willing partners? When John looked at these women did he recall how they were with him, remembered their tastes, their preferences? Sherlock thought of the women that he’d left John with, oh god, they wanted John again, and everything about their body language broadcast their interest. Even if John didn’t remember _they_ certainly did and Sherlock wanted to be sick again but there was nothing left to heave up. He realized John was rapping on the stall door anxiously, “Sherlock, open up love, Sherlock, tell me what’s wrong. Sherlock? Please love, you’re worrying me. Open up!”

Sherlock used some tissue to clean his mouth and flushed the mess away before opening the door. John looked so worried, almost frantic, “I’m sorry John.” said Sherlock, feeling miserable and not knowing why he was sorry but he was. There was a rapping at the door and Cam’s arm stuck through. She was waving a travel sized bottle of mouth-wash and individual packets of wet-naps. John retrieved them with a word of thanks and took Sherlock to the sink, “I’m sorry.” said Sherlock again as John helped him clean up.

“I’m the one who’s sorry Sherlock, Bill’s a bit of a prick but he never means any harm. His brain is entirely disengaged and his mouth pretty much says whatever it wants.” Sherlock used the mouth-wash gratefully and the wet-naps as well. They weren’t the normal lemon scented ones that were used everywhere, these ones smelled spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg. It calmed Sherlock even more. “About the women, Sherlock my past is just that, the past. I didn’t have any deep relationships when I was in, just one-offs. It wouldn’t matter even if I had been with someone in a serious way because no matter how I’ve felt about  the other people in my life not a single one of them means as much to me as you do. _You_ are the love of my life and I’m so proud to have you with me tonight. I’m sorry you got a shock, I should have been more considerate but I was having such a good time showing you off.”

John was showing Sherlock off? “You were?”

“Of course I was! Bill’s been a bit heavy handed about it but he’s not the only one who thinks you’re too good for me. I guess it’s a bit of a selfish desire but I was sort of enjoying seeing the looks on their faces when they realized you were with me.” Sherlock felt better and better every moment because John’s eyes were soft and sweet, filled with sincerity and concern.

“I don’t like knowing you were with other people. You know I’ll know because I can tell. I don’t know what’s happening, I feel strange.” Sherlock felt like he was drugged, high and floating above himself but it wasn’t the ecstasy of his favorite street drug, this felt wrong, like he couldn’t pull himself back together, as if things were off kilter and he wasn’t in control of his responses any longer.

John kissed him and all the bad feeling evaporated as a small burst of warmth started at Sherlock’s heart and filled him from head to toe, then John kissed the tip of Sherlock’s nose and smiled up at him, “You have absolutely nothing to worry about, no one in the world is cleverer or sexier than you, I have pictures on my mobile in case no one believes we got married. I need proof. Come on Sherlock, will you let an old soldier escort his trophy husband around? Let me show you off.”

John’s eyes were still soft and Sherlock smiled, all the bad feelings completely eradicated. John loved him and only him. His old lovers could try their best if they wanted, Sherlock would leave them in _tears_ if they tested him, “I would be honored John.”

Bill was standing right outside the door and was treated to twin glares from John and Sherlock. Cam smacked him on the arm and he said “I’m sorry for being a loud-mouthed classless…”

“Rude.” prompted Cam.

“Rude jerk who doesn’t think before he speaks.”

“And...?” said Cam.

“And for hitting on you over and over again even though I know you’re not single.”

“And?” Cam nudged Bill with her foot.

“And for thinking with my dick instead of my brain all the time because I’m no better than a cat in heat.”

“And?” Cam kicked him smartly in the foot and Bill jumped a bit.

“And for not congratulating John on his medal because I’m an ass.”

“And?” said Cam relentlessly.

Bill finally turned to her, “Babe, if we list everything that I’m wrong about we’re going to be standing in front of the toilet all night. Can’t we just leave it at _I’m sorry_ and go have drinks? Please?”

Both of them turned to look at Sherlock who really wasn’t in the mood to forgive Bill but since Cam seemed to have him on a leash Sherlock decided he could be gracious for John’s sake, “Apology accepted.”

“Thank fuck, I need a drink. Come on Mrs. Holmes, stop giving me mean eyes and let’s go toss one back.” Bill turned sharply on his heel and walked away grumbling.

Cam rolled her eyes, “He’s really not a bad guy. He just takes getting used to.” Sherlock looked at Cam and John and wondered what it was about them that gave them such patience with the very difficult people they’d chosen to befriend. Cam looked up and narrowed her eyes, “Don’t even suggest that I hook up with him. Just thinking about it makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Bill is like a brother. He stinks. He’d be a whore but he gives it away for free. He drinks too much. He never listens. He’s always got my back. He’s nearly died for me so many times. He’s my best friend so please; don’t kill him because I know you can.”

Sherlock had to smile, Cam was very acceptable, “Thank you for the mouth-wash and the wet wipes.”

“Yeah, well when you go out with Bill as often as I do you know learn how to prepare.” she said with resignation and showed them a large purse she was carrying as discretely as she could, “We’d better catch up to him before he starts humping someone’s leg.”

Bill had actually managed to find someone to chat to, both men standing close together exchanging smiles and looks. Cam rolled her eyes again and gave John and Sherlock a look that said _see_? “I don’t even know why he wears trousers.” Cam went right over to Bill and smiled up at the strange man. Bill dropped his arm around Cam’s shoulder easily and continued flirting and joking. The other man pointedly acted as if she wasn’t even there and Bill’s smile dropped away. With the same sharp turn he done before Bill simply walked away from the man he’d been hitting on and led Cam off to talk to someone else.

They didn’t see the pair for some time after that. John was being congratulated by many of his old friends while Sherlock stood tall and proud by his husband’s side. John was approached by every last one of the seven women Sherlock had noted earlier as well as a further eleven that appeared out of the large crowd. John was friendly with all of them but that’s as warm as he got. Sherlock couldn’t help how his own arm suddenly found its way over John’s shoulders, this was his soldier, there were lots of other soldiers to choose from currently, those _hussies_ could look elsewhere!

The dance floor had spread out and now most of the people were crowded together on the vast floor moving and laughing. John and Sherlock enjoyed themselves, pausing to chat to this person or that until Sherlock needed to excuse himself to the lavatory. Promising to find John who was speaking with an elderly retiree Sherlock left and came back just in time to watch a surprised looking blogger being pulled off into a dance with a very excited looking woman wearing a uniform. That ugly feeling welled up inside Sherlock and he glowered.

Bill suddenly appeared at his side and he was looking off into the crowd after John, “Whoops.” said the tall man. Sherlock found himself in Bill’s arms and glared up at the pilot, “Don’t do that with the eyes…that thing…I’m helping, swear.” Bill danced Sherlock deftly through the crowd until they caught up to John who was still trying to extricate himself from the determined grip of his dance partner, “ _Alisha_! I haven’t seen you in ages. Switch off I wanna catch up.” Bill yanked John away and shoved him into Sherlock’s arms and quickly danced the unprotesting woman away, both of them sharing a lascivious grin.

John looked relieved, “Jesus Christ is she strong. She’s had a bit too much already too.”

“Bill has his uses.” said Sherlock who needed to hug his husband because he smelled wrong now and Sherlock didn’t like that a bit. John led him back toward the refreshment area where they found Cam who was looking for Bill again. “He’s dancing with a woman. I thought he was gay.”

Cam laughed heartily with John and answered Sherlock, “Yeah right. No, Bill’s try-sexual. He’ll try anything. Believe me, I’ve watched from the sidelines for years now and that boy just will not slow his roll. It’s actually kind of inspiring. You’d think he’d be bored of it by now but he’s like a kid in a candy store.” Sherlock couldn’t even imagine what that kind of life would be like, to share your body with person after person merely for the physical release it brought. Sherlock would never be able to live like that but for some reason he felt almost impressed that Bill did. Like Sherlock and The Work Bill had found something that interested him and pursued it no matter what. “He’s still working on The List.”

“No, really?” said John who laughed, “Go on, tell him.”

Cam turned to Sherlock, “Bill’s got this list. It started off as beating John’s record, you know, the three continents thing, but Bill decided to do countries, he’s up to eighty now.”

“Sleeping with tourists still doesn’t count right?” asked John and Cam laughed.

“No or he’d have checked off half the planet that time we went to this party in…well I can’t really talk about it, but no. He has to actually be in the country.” They laughed and chatted some more, and Sherlock made sure to keep his arm around John’s shoulder, looking sharply at the women who approached to say hello, and several of the men as well.

Alcohol was loosening everyone up and Sherlock wasn’t the only one who was impressed with John’s heroism. The doctor still smelled wrong too and Sherlock decided he’d been good long enough. “John, I would like to go home.”

“Excellent, my feet are killing me,” said John instantly. He leaned over and kissed Cam farewell, “Tell Bill we said goodbye.”

“He wants to come visit.” John and Sherlock groaned and Cam laughed, “We’re coming to visit. Brace yourselves.”

“Tomorrow night then, we still haven’t had a proper honeymoon and we’re going to.” said John and Cam gave him a look that was both sympathetic and unsympathetic, “Dinner, our place. 221 B Baker Street, 7PM?”

“Sounds good, I’ll make sure he cleans off the Eau’d Skank before we show up, promise.” Cam gave them both a warm hug and pushed them away, “I’ve got to go find him, laterz!” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the crowd.

“We have to get home now John.” declared Sherlock.

“Why, what’s going on.” John looked concerned but Sherlock just leaned down and began to whisper into John’s ear. He’d had several inspired thoughts and decided sharing them with his soldier was more than acceptable. From the ever-widening grin on John’s face, Sherlock’s husband agreed, “What, charts and everything.”

“Everything John , we can’t be shoddy about research.”

“And you have everything already you said?”

“Oh yes. I’ve been meaning to show you.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve been living with me for a long time you should believe it.”

“I guess you’re right. Sherlock?”

“Yes John?”

“Why are we still here?”

“I don’t know John, I’d really rather be home.”

John took Sherlock’s hand and led him firmly away from everyone, both men smiling with anticipation. John was the best research assistant around and Sherlock was positive the outcomes of his new experiments would be very, very informative.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Bill and Cam, I won't lie.


	24. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has just spent the most incredible day with John learning about his heroic past. Now it's time to take his doctor home and show him exactly how that made him feel.

 

The ride home was filled with simple comfort as John allowed Sherlock to hold him covetously, his long arms wrapped around John, blatantly clinging but John didn’t seem to mind and Sherlock refused to think about what it looked like, “I’m very proud of you John.” said Sherlock softly and John nodded, “Thank you for sharing this evening with me, I did enjoy hearing more about you from those who were there.” Sherlock had heard all sorts of snippets and bits throughout the evening. Even with the downs of the night there had been plenty of ups and Sherlock would never forget the image of John in battle.

“It was good seeing everyone again but honestly, I can’t wait to get out of this kit. It’s pinching now and I think one of my medals is stabbing me in the chest.” Sherlock was very prepared to assist his husband in relieving his discomfort, “ _After_ we get back to Baker Street Sherlock!” said John, smacking Sherlock’s hand away.

They laughed softly with one another and enjoyed the rest of the ride in silence. Still, once they got back Sherlock wasted no time resuming the unbuttoning he’d attempted in the taxi but this time John didn’t stop him at all. Sherlock had thrown his own coat off quickly, and toed off his shoes but John he unwrapped like a much anticipated present. John was tolerant and smiling, allowing Sherlock to draw his jacket off and lay in neatly on the bureau. He let Sherlock kiss each medal reverently before kissing John, whispering over and over again how much he loved John and how proud he was of him, how grateful he was that they were together, and told John how much he wanted him.

Sherlock kissed each button on John’s shirt open until the detective was on his knees, ghosting his lips over John’s thighs as he helped him out of his socks and trousers. John was breathing heavily now, erect, and straining at in his pants. Sherlock mouthed his way over it, feeling the shape of John through the material, enjoying how the heat of John’s cock was arousing and soothing at the same time. He wanted it in his mouth and tugged John’s pants off to free it, humming deeply in appreciation as it came into view, “Clothes off love, clothes _off_ , I need to see you.” said John and Sherlock hastily shrugged off everything, standing for just a moment to rid himself of the last of it before dropping back down on his knees, “Oh…I thought…oh…if you want to…” said John raggedly as Sherlock began.

Sherlock allowed the fat head of John’s cock to push through his lips. He wanted this, wanted John so much. His John was such a marvel, such a wonder, he deserved every bit of pleasure Sherlock could provide and Sherlock had plans to give his soldier so much that John would do nothing but reap the rewards for all the good he had done. This was merely the beginning.

Sherlock let his tongue explore, feeling the almost invisible ridges of the glans, tasting the clear droplets of precum that were already gathering. Sherlock appreciated the delicacy of John’s foreskin, working it back and forth with his fingers as he continued to tease and taste. He allowed his other hand to drift over John’s testicles, cupping and rolling them gently, enjoying John’s soft moans. Sherlock finally let his head fall slowly forward and closed his eyes as John’s cock slid deep into his mouth. He felt something twitch deep inside him, something primal urge that filled him with satisfaction when he listened to the sounds John was making, those rumbling grunts as the soldier struggled to keep from thrusting deeper, “Look at me Sherlock, look at me love.” John’s voice was raspy already but Sherlock obeyed, keeping John’s cock but managing to move his head a bit to meet John’s heated gaze, “Oh fuck…just look at….oh fuck….” John’s eyes looked panicked for a second and suddenly his fingers were there, pinching the base of his cock hard, “Fuck…..mmm…..just….close….so fucking hot.”

Sherlock would have smiled if he’d been able to just then, not even a minute or so into their night and John was already on edge. _Marvelous_. Sherlock deliberately pulled off, his eyes never leaving John’s until the head of John’s cock was barely brushing against Sherlock’s lips and then he swallowed his doctor down to the root in one slow slide, rubbing his balls gently as he pushed John’s fingers away. John shouted and grabbed Sherlock’s head tight in both hands and bucked. Sherlock nearly gagged when John’s cock slammed into the back of his throat but his position had made him lean forward a bit so when John’s hips repeated their motion a second later Sherlock simply braced himself and let John do as he would. He needed to hold John’s hips to keep from being knocked back so that’s what he did and felt that deep twinge inside once again when John’s fingers tightened in his hair. John was fast but brutal, Sherlock’s lips felt bruised but it was worth it when he heard John cry out brokenly and tasted his bitter seed, salty and thick on the back of his tongue. John’s cock pulsed in his mouth, shoved deep as the doctor held Sherlock’s head tight to him, delivering jet after jet of come. Sherlock swallowed, drooling a bit, and tried to breathe through his nose until John finally seemed to come around and pulled back, “Sherlock.” said John who fell back onto the bed slowly and lay there struggling to catch his breath.

Sherlock wasn’t done, not by a long way. He clambered onto the bed and began to kiss every inch of John’s sweaty face, claiming his lover’s mouth before biting small kisses along his jaw and down his neck. “Turn over John.” John nodded weakly and rolled to his stomach.

Sherlock had a goal. He needed to claim his soldier, conquer every inch of John until he was owned one hundred percent by Sherlock Holmes and no other. John was pliant now, relaxed and willing so Sherlock began at his feet. “Sherlock!” exclaimed John with some surprise as the detective kissed his way over the soles of John’s feet, moving up his calves, pausing at the backs of John’s knees which turned out to be very sensitive, to the backs of John’s thighs which Sherlock was beginning to think were his favorite part of John, except that all of John’s parts were Sherlock’s favorite so he just kept kissing and tasting everywhere.

Sherlock played with John’s behind for a moment, kneading and squeezing it, scattering kisses generously over it before kissing the dimples on John’s back and licking his way up John’s spine, pausing to pay ardent tribute to each and every scar he came across until he came to the galaxy on John’s shoulder and made sure to give it extra love because it deserved it. This scar would always be John’s crowning glory and Sherlock would never stop being grateful that his had his soldier safe in his arms.

Sherlock kissed the backs of John’s arms all the way down to his fingers. How much comfort had John provided with those same hands, how many hearts still beat because of them? Sherlock felt his heart swell again as his devotion to John deepened further and spurred him to continue. Kissing his way back up Sherlock knelt beside John and whispered in his ear, “I want you John, so very much.”

John twisted around so he could kiss Sherlock, their tongues sliding and tangling together. Sherlock’s lips were still tender from earlier but that just made kissing John even more wonderful, “My turn?” said John with a small smile after the kiss ended.

“Your turn.” promised Sherlock who began to make his way down John’s back once more. John splayed himself out on the mattress willingly; his thighs parted just a bit. It took a second to organize himself but Sherlock got the lube, moved himself to between John’s legs which he pushed open even wider and resumed kissing John’s back. Sherlock dropped the lube beside John’s hips and used his hands to spread John. John moaned and rocked his hips back, “You like this.” said Sherlock softly, almost teasingly.

“You know I do.” said John, his voice rough again with desire.

“You like knowing I’m going to open you with my tongue?” John groaned and rocked his hips again. Sherlock leaned forward and gave John a very slow deliberate lick, enjoying the flutter beneath his tongue and the almost pained sigh that John huffed out.

“Yes.”

“You like knowing my mouth is going to be on you….here.” Sherlock pressed a filthy kiss onto John’s entrance and the soldier sighed raggedly.

“God yes.”

“Tell me why.” Sherlock began to kiss around the furl, mouthing the sensitive tissue until John’s hips bucked reflexively once more, “Tell me.” he urged before he resumed lapping and teasing John.

“ _Oh god_ your mouth! So fucking beautiful…genius….oh…oh...do that again….” Sherlock pushed his tongue into John slowly and withdrew it, repeating the motion as John tried to speak, his voice shaky, “You...you…you never touched anyone but m...m…me….and…and…you’re so brilliant…and _oh god_ so out of my league…. _fuck do it again_! You’re so beautiful Sherlock, so smart….oh Christ…makes me feel so good knowing… _hnng_ …you want me too…I don’t d...de…deserve you!”

Sherlock licked John one last time before kneeling back and slicking his fingers, pressing one slowly into the doctor before leaning over John’s back to kiss his neck, “I am the one who is undeserving John Watson, you deserve someone so much better than me but I have you and I’m keeping you. I want to take you John, do you want that?”

John was breathing loudly, his hip rocking back into Sherlock’s finger eagerly so Sherlock began to press the second one in and John groaned appreciatively, “I want that. I want you in me.”

“You want my cock…here….” Sherlock’s fingers were pressed tight together as he worked to loosen John enough to take him. They were both rushed but Sherlock knew he couldn’t hurry this too greatly no matter how much his cock ached to just plunge deep.

“God yes!” cried John who raised his hips a bit. Sherlock reached over and grabbed a pillow to stuff under his hips. Sherlock noted that John was fully erect once more and smiled to himself before leaning forward.

Sherlock knew John found his voice to be very stimulating so he made sure to keep his tones deep and rumbling, “How do you want it John? Do you want me to take your hips in my hands and fuck you into the mattress? Maybe I’ll bend you over and ride you until you can’t scream any more or maybe you want to ride me? Would you like that John, to impale yourself on my cock and use me until you come all over me and I fill your ass?”

John had become noticeably more excited as Sherlock continued to speak. Sherlock was already scissoring his fingers and beginning to introduce the third required finger because John’s body was hungry and eager, blossoming willingly as Sherlock worked him open, “ _Jesus Christ_ that…I want that…that’s what I want.”

It only took a minute to rearrange themselves, Sherlock laying on his back, pillows piled behind him as John straddling his hips the second Sherlock’s cock was slick with lube. John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock hard as they lined up Sherlock’s cock together. John settled down and Sherlock was the one groaning loudly as he felt himself push into the molten heat of John’s flesh, “Fuck. It’s so intense this way.” John was moving slowly, cautiously working Sherlock deeper and deeper, his thighs flexing as he lifted himself repeatedly.

Sherlock focused on not coming but it was so difficult because everything he saw was glorious. John’s face was ruddy again, his cheeks dark and flushed, his mouth set in a line as he concentrated, his eyes squeezed shut, his head back and his hands on his hips to steady himself. John’s entire body was amazing, the way his skin moved over his muscles, the way the softness around his belly and hips moved just a bit when John began to rock with greater assurance, the way the hair on John’s chest was sweaty and a bit matted looking, the way John’s cock thrust up, rosy and full, begging for Sherlock’s hand. He didn’t resist the call, “My beautiful John.” sighed Sherlock, his voice filled with love and admiration for the vision in front of him, “My wonderful, beautiful, _beautiful_ man.”

John’s eyes opened and they were soft again. Still moaning a bit, his hips not stopping, John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock, both their bodies adjusting to their new position, “I love you. God I love you so much. Sherlock, _my_ Sherlock, _mine_.”

Oh god John! The possessiveness in his voice sparked along Sherlock’s nerves and made him tingle from head to toe, “ _Yours_ John. Only yours, only you John.” That seemed to be exactly what John wanted to hear because the soldier began to move in rough hard drops, his mouth on Sherlock’s as they gasped and groaned together. “John…I’m…John….” Sherlock realized he wasn’t going to last any longer, it was all still so new, so intense.

“Yeah, go on,” John’s voice was filled with almost smug pride as he sat back and began to twist his hips just a bit, his breath hitching as Sherlock sucked in gasp after gasp as the heat in his abdomen grew and grew until he was on fire and his body was so tight he felt like a bowstring, and John was riding him so smoothly, taking him down to the root over and over again, “Shit…fuck….yeah….yeah…go on...”

Sherlock sat up, crushing John to him, John’s cock caught between the two of them as Sherlock gripped John’s waist and his unscarred shoulder, his hips jerking upward, his teeth pressed to John’s chest. John’s face was pressed into the top of Sherlock’s head and Sherlock could hear John shouting something, he didn’t know what because the world was fragmented right then, there was only his cock as he emptied himself into John, each blissful burst making Sherlock nearly sob, his head almost shaking back and forth as his orgasm rocked the foundations of his existence.

Sherlock became aware that John’s arms were wrapped around his head and that his lover was shaking against him. Still panting Sherlock swept his hands up and down John’s back soothingly, calming him, helping him recover from the intensity of his release which Sherlock could now feel trickling down his belly. Sherlock lay back carefully, taking his soldier with him, still touching John as much as he could, letting his lover cling to him. It was a long time before John responded and when he finally lifted his head his face was teary, “That was amazing.”

Sherlock hoped he’d eradicated every single memory had of any lover he had ever taken before him. “You are amazing.” he said sincerely. John was, he really, really was amazing. “You’re the bravest, kindest, most patient person I have ever come across. I want to fill your life with as much pleasure as I can manage; I want to be worthy to be with you.”

John was smiling down at Sherlock, “I love you.”

“I love you too John.”

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” Sherlock smirked and John laughed before lifting himself reluctantly off of his husband and cuddling up to Sherlock’s chest to continue recovering with a contented sigh, “Seriously though Sherlock, being with you is on a whole different level. It’s like everything I did before this wasn’t even sex.” Oh John, he really was a miracle. Sherlock held his doctor tighter, smiling hugely to himself and felt at peace with the universe. John sighed again and nudged Sherlock, “We were supposed to be starting some kind of experiment?”

Oh yes. The experiments, how unlike Sherlock to be side-tracked from science, “We can begin tomorrow, for some reason I’m finding it very difficult to keep my eyes open.”

“Well you can lay here in your own mess but I’m going to crawl to the shower and wash up.” John moved away from Sherlock and that wasn’t right so Sherlock just went after him, nearly tackling John back onto the bed.

“I like you dirty.” said Sherlock, kissing John hard, “You smell like both of us.”

“I like smelling like both of us too but I don’t want to wake up glued to the sheets. Since my behind is going to need to take a break you can change the sheets and meet me in the shower.” well changing sheets wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world to do and in the future Sherlock was going to look into something removable they could use so they didn’t need to worry about the mess afterward. Sherlock helped John into the shower first and as soon as he was done he joined his husband, “This does feel lovely.”

“Yeah, we’ll sleep like rocks after this.” Sherlock washed them both from head to toe and dried John off as well, shamelessly spoiling his soldier, ignoring John’s protests that he could do things himself.

“I know you can John but I find I enjoy doing this. I’ve never shared someone’s life before and I’m discovering that these small acts stay with me during the day. It brings me great comfort.” John’s protests stopped immediately so Sherlock dried his soldier’s hair and escorted him naked back to bed. When they were tucked in together Sherlock kissed John’s head, “You don’t know what it means to me to be able to do these small things. For me everything from sharing our bed to knowing I can kiss you goodbye when you leave for work is going to be a joy forever.”

John was very quiet after that and held himself close to Sherlock who closed his eyes and held onto John as they began to drift away. His voice was muzzy with sleep as he tried to speak and Sherlock was nearly in his dreams but the words sank in anyway. “I’ll never stop appreciating you Sherlock. For me you’ll always be fantastic, amazing…beautifu…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ThreeBee for the delightful recommendation!
> 
> http://www.liberator.com/fascinator-throe.html


	25. The Collection

The next day was busy. Sherlock woke before John and decided things needed to change. His husband was still sleeping but Sherlock declared loudly, “You can’t keep your things upstairs any longer, we’re married now, it’s not right.” Despite shaking him awake John lay face down in bed and refused to move until Sherlock made a pot of coffee and served him along with some toast, “You eat, I’ll start.”

Sherlock was determined. John needed to relax anyway so Sherlock fetched his husband some pain tablets before he cleared out his wardrobe aggressively, piling things in the hallway until John was lying on his side and making amazed sounds each time Sherlock pulled something else out of the sturdy furnishing, “Did you collapse space or something? Is that a starter Tardis or what? How did you keep all of that in there?”

Sherlock looked around. The hallway had several piles in it and there were things stacked on the end of the bed near John’s feet but his wardrobe still had all his clothes in it, “It’s bigger on the inside?” he ventured, recalling a line that John seemed to enjoy.

It worked and John laughed so Sherlock smiled, pleased that he’d managed to make a joke using John’s favorite show. His sense of humor was as ill-developed as his emotions but John had worked on that too, plying Sherlock with amusing movies, explaining pop culture, making Sherlock at least listen to the dialogue which obviously worked because the information had been inside Sherlock’s mind palace to use just then. Sherlock hadn’t quite gotten to the point where he thought he could go to the cinema but he had taken John to several productions. He stopped and blinked as his mind evaluated existing data under new parameters, “John how many unintentional dates do you suppose we’ve been on?”

“What do you mean?” Sherlock reminded his husband about taking John to the theatre or symphony throughout the years, usually after a nice meal out. They’d done things like that many times, many, many times. Museums, art exhibitions, all manner of activities in fact because Sherlock was a very curious person and John had always been very indulgent with Sherlock’s requests. That combined with John’s love of feeding Sherlock new foods and you had a vast compilation of date-situations had either party been aware. John laughed again and blushed a bit, “Wow. Um, yeah, I don’t know Sherlock but I’m willing to bet it’s a fair few. The entire city thought we were dating.”

Sherlock helped John out of bed, “Well we’ve sorted it all out so everyone can rest easy now. We’ve managed to get married despite ourselves and now you’re going to go take a hot bath while I bring your things down.” Sherlock wasn’t going to let John walk up and down the stairs a dozen times. He could bring his husband’s clothes down, “I’ll wait for you and help you with your personal items.”

Sherlock knew John only owned a few things and those things meant a lot to his soldier. The trunk he kept all his treasures in was never to be touched and Sherlock had never violated that promise though John had opened it many times and shown Sherlock the things he’d stowed away, even if it was just showing him the long flat box he kept his medals in. Sherlock supposed his new medals would go in the box with the rest of them. “Thanks love. I do need a soak.”

While John used the toilet Sherlock seasoned the rapidly filling tub with liberal helpings of the bath condiments that he still had, John was laughing again. “Why is it all in pastel colors do you suppose? Everything is pearly.” Bubbles were frothing up heavily and already threatening to spill over.

“I’m sure if I looked I could find something more suited to our bathroom décor,” replied Sherlock. John was washing his hands now so Sherlock helped him out of his robe and eased John into the tub even though John was rolling his eyes, perfectly capable of sitting down on his own, “They must make bath beads that go with semi-rusted Victorian pipes and old brick.”

“Chipped enamel is all the rage I’ve heard.” joked John who sank into his bubbly kingdom with a contented sigh. His head was barely above the bank of foam that floated on top of the steaming water. John swooshed his hand through it idly and closed his eyes so Sherlock left him to relax and went upstairs.

John’s room was Spartan compared to Sherlock’s. The soldier kept everything neatly in order but in truth, there was very little to keep. His wardrobe stood against one wall and his bed was against the other, there was a small desk that John never used and a night-table with a lamp and alarm clock. John kept no pictures, hung no decorations, he kept the floor swept, the area carpet hoovered and when Sherlock pulled the doors open, all of John’s clothes were neatly hung or folded in their appropriate locations. It smelled wonderfully of John and Sherlock just stood there for a moment and took it in.

When Sherlock had first come home he’d done something similar. He barely recalled those first days, he was exhausted and in pain from the beatings he’d endured but he remembered staggering up these stairs at one point, of pulling this very same wardrobe open and finding it almost completely empty. He’d been in such pain he hadn’t recognized the pang of grief he’d felt when he saw his friend had really moved on, that John no longer lived at Baker Street. Sherlock felt it now and nearly fell to his knees with gratitude that things had worked out so well and that all that darkness was behind them. He had his John now so reverently Sherlock took one armload after another down to their room and hung it all neatly in order for John to inspect later. Sherlock then picked up the stacks in the hallway and brought them upstairs to store in John’s completely emptied old wardrobe, relocating costumes and disguises, weather appropriate jackets, and all manner items. Sherlock realized he was like a magpie, collecting more and more things as time went on. He heard the water begin to drain and the shower came on, “I’m all foamy.” shouted John and Sherlock went downstairs to join him.

Shedding his clothes swiftly Sherlock climbed into the shower where John scrubbed him from head to toe with a smile on his face, “All done?”

“You’ll need to move a few more things but essentially yes. There are several things that can be relocated, we’ll need to decide.” Sherlock decided he didn’t need to keep everything in his bedroom. It wasn’t just his space any longer, it was their space and John shouldn’t need to share his space with Sherlock’s extras. John did like some of it though so he’d let the soldier have veto over what stayed and what went.

It took most of the morning, including a hearty breakfast that John made, before everything was more or less sorted and shifted. “That headboard is a bit of a bother, we need a different one or something.” noted John.

Mrs. Hudson would be coming home that night. Sherlock imagined that no amount of ear plugs or sound machines would be able to block out the unmistakable thumping sounds. “It’s possible to simply move the bed away from the wall a few inches but it does involve dealing with the experiment.”

“The experiment. Oh…oh _The Experiment_.” even Sherlock could hear the capital letter’s John’s voice slammed onto the words and he looked at his husband. Suddenly Sherlock was both excited and filled with dread. There were a lot of things under that mattress, a lot of very strange and questionable things. “Well it’s either move the bed or get a different one so, what do you want to show me?”

Sherlock stood John off to the side of the bed near the corner of the mattress and knelt, flicking the small catch at the foot but held the tab down so it didn’t release, “Ready?”

“Why do I feel nervous? Okay. I’m ready.” John set his feet and looked intently. Sherlock removed his hand and the bed rose smoothly, lifting up soundlessly as the mattress tilted back to reveal Sherlock’s collection. There was silence for a long moment and Sherlock had to force himself to turn and look at John.

John’s face was filled with astonishment. His eyes were darting all over, clearly he was beyond startled and obviously was finding it difficult to find something to say, “You…that’s…Sherlock, wow. Just wow!”

Good wow? Bad wow? Sherlock wished John would use more precise language when he reacted, “I told you I had everything.”

“You weren’t exaggerating,” said John weakly. Sherlock looked down. The storage area beneath his bed was packed as tightly as his wardrobe had been. “Well, I guess if we need to move the bed we’re going to have to…get…get it all out.” John didn’t seem to be able to move and kept staring at everything, “it’s so colorful.” he said inanely.

“The producers of sex toys have taken upon themselves to try nearly every material and configuration imaginable.” Sherlock had looked into it very thoroughly before deciding he’d looked enough. There would always be a new toy, a new sensation but essentially the basics were the same.

“Yes I can see that.” said John who still hadn’t moved. John seemed to shake himself and he stepped forward, “Well, they can’t lie on the floor.” John left the room and came back with one of the spare blankets he kept in their linen closet. Laying it on the floor John took a deep breath and reached for the first handful of items, “You have a lot of dildos.”

“All of them are unused.”

“What, all of them?”

“Well, these ones, yes. I have tried some but if I didn’t care for them I discarded them after. I wasn’t going to keep a _used_ item! That’s not very hygienic.” Sherlock looked critically at his collection, “I never intended to ever use any of these, I was just curious. I suppose I got a bit carried away.”

“Yeah well, remember the week you decided to collect dirt from all over London? You were prying up paving stones and had baggies of the stuff all over the living-room. What did you do with all of that anyway?”

“Community garden, surprisingly no one noticed the addition of several kilos of disparate soil samples.” John seemed to be taking everything in stride, examining the large glass dildo in his hand. It had colorful swirls all over it and John shook his head, laying it on the blanket and coming back for more.

“Why do these crops have animal faces on them?” asked John when they’d worked their way to the BDSM collection, “And why is everything all pink and sparkly?”

“It came as a set, I got a deal on shipping.” for some reason this answer made John laugh and he kept extracting all the items with minimal commentary. Sherlock noted that while John didn’t say very much he wasn’t unaffected by his seeming casual handling of everything. The dildos were laid out without much reaction, the plugs and cock rings set out without a word but when John came to the restraints John’s eyes darkened noticeably, _interesting_ , “Of course there are some things I couldn’t try safely on my own, the spreader bar for instance. I could use just the ankle cuffs but there was no reason to and even if I tried it, I couldn’t get the wrist cuffs on as well.” All the color disappeared from John’s eyes and the soldier breathed hard. So, John had a probably unrealized kink. _Very interesting indeed_ , “Maybe you can help me with that one night, you know, for science.”

“For science.” said John, his voice gravelly. John stood there holding the collection of adorable crops and cleared his throat, “Wait. You said _this stuff_. Does that mean there’s something you do use?” John set the crops aside and Sherlock fetched out his small basket of toys and lube. “That’s it?”

The basket wasn’t huge, just big enough to contain Sherlock’s fleshlight and the small plugs he hadn’t hated. The mount sat off to the side so Sherlock took it out and John looked everything over, even sticking his finger inside the toy to feel the texture, “It’s so squishy.”

“Well if you’ve never tried the real thing,” Sherlock came up behind John and squeezed his behind appreciatively, “It’s not too bad.”

John leaned back into Sherlock, “So the real thing is better?”

“Much better John though, for science, you’d really have to check it out and see for yourself.” John turned in Sherlock’s arms, letting the basket drop to the floor, “If you think we have time before dinner.”

It was just past noon, plenty of time to play around so Sherlock and John moved the bed, both men laughing with each other as they test jumped on it to ensure there was no wall banging before reloading the storage area with toys, excluding everything John liked which turned out to be rather a lot. John was so excited he didn’t even bring up taking a lunch break; he just kicked the door to their bedroom shut and nearly tackled Sherlock back onto their freshly remade bed, kissing his husband hungrily. Sherlock broke away briefly, “Just let me set it up.”

John stripped off his clothes while Sherlock got things arranged then tugged Sherlock’s clothes off quickly, both men already half-hard. Sherlock took John’s cock in his hand and stroked it until John was hard and leaking. Before he could get distracted Sherlock dribbled lube on John and got the doctor to stand in front of the toy, “Just start slow. Feel.”

John pulled Sherlock so the detective was flush to his back and took Sherlock’s hand and placed it on his cock so Sherlock was the one who guided John inside. John rocked his hips a tiny bit and Sherlock pressed tighter so his cock was nestled high against John’s behind, “Oh god it’s so smooth, and it’s warmer than I would have thought.”

“The silicone form is very pleasing; this particular model is a favorite.” It was fascinating to watch John push his cock into the toy, to watch it be swallowed up and pulled out again. Sherlock’s cock twitched in response and John rubbed up harder against his husband, “Almost wish we hadn’t done anything last night.” Sherlock murmured. It would be very exciting to be able to push into John at the same time.

Apparently John had the same idea which is why less than an hour later Sherlock was rocking his hips back and forth, panting loudly as John gripped his waist and pushed himself deep into Sherlock’s body, “Ready? You ready?” gasped John, Sherlock nodded and John’s hand left his waist to grip Sherlock’s cock.

It took a bit of maneuvering but both of them pushed forward and Sherlock groaned even louder than John as he felt himself being stimulated front and back at the same time, “I can’t move.” he croaked. The sensations were too intense. The toy gripped Sherlock’s cock wonderfully but the feel of John’s lovely hard cock inside him was exquisite.

John snapped his hips and Sherlock cried out as his cock shoved into the toy and jerked out again as John nearly withdrew, snapping his cock back into Sherlock smartly. “Good?” asked John who had his forehead pressed to the back of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock nodded and John kicked his legs apart a little more, “Hold on.”

Sherlock really needed to hang on tight. It was rough and fantastic, John’s ecstatic cries were the most wonderful music Sherlock had ever heard and when John made Sherlock come the detective’s legs nearly gave out and they barely managed to get back onto the bed properly where John tested the repositioning of the headboard with great thoroughness, “I’m coming.” he finally gasped and Sherlock gripped the bedding because John was fucking him so hard he was sliding ahead by inches until the soldier jerked hard one last time. Sherlock closed his eyes and relished the sensation of John’s come spurting deep inside him.

John stayed on his knees behind Sherlock for a minute before he pulled out, “Don’t move.” he ordered. Sherlock was too satisfied to move and just lay there on his belly smiling and enjoying the delicious sense of overall satisfaction his whole body was experiencing. John came back and he was kneeling behind Sherlock. Something cool and blunt nudged against his entrance and Sherlock jumped a bit, “Relax.” ordered John and Sherlock melted back onto the bedding, eyes wide, mouth open slightly as John worked a well lubed plug into him. It was far larger than the ones in Sherlock’s personal collection which honestly weren’t much greater than a single finger width. “Relax, we’re at the widest part.” said John calmly and Sherlock closed his eyes as John wiggled and pushed until Sherlock was certain he was going to tear open but suddenly the whole thing seemed to snug inside him, his anus closing around the narrowed neck, the flat guard pushing against his cleft to keep it securely in place. “Sit up.”

Sherlock sat up cautiously. The plug was heavy inside him but not uncomfortable, it just felt strange. He stood and carefully walked around the room before coming back to sit on the bed. He gasped and closed his eyes. Oh that was delicious! “John!”

“It’s good? Not too much?” Sherlock opened his eyes and smiled up at his anxious husband who relaxed when he took in Sherlock’s expression. “Good, just relax for a minute.” John kissed Sherlock and then took the detective’s hand. Something heavy was set in it and Sherlock looked down. There was a large silicone plug resting there and when he looked up John had a naughty grin on, “My turn.”

It turned out that working a sex toy into your husband was very diverting and after a long while of playing with it John and Sherlock realized they were running low on time to get ready for company. With one last slow push Sherlock settled it deep inside John, marveling at how his husband’s body accommodated it, and appreciated the fact that John was so gracious about having something nearly twice the size of the one inside Sherlock lodged in his behind. John stood up and like Sherlock walked cautiously around the room to test it out. Sherlock came up to John and kissed him, “You’ll be ready for me later.”

“We’ll have to make sure Cam and Bill don’t end up staying all night.” Both men grinned up at each other. It was very exciting to do this with John. Sherlock felt aroused but his cock at least was behaving, but then they’d just had sex, “If it gets to be too much we’ll come back here and take them out. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Cooking dinner became a whole new experience. Bending over to fetch out pots and pans came with muffled groans and much rubbing up on one another. John went all out and made a full roast meal, “I don’t get to see them very often. It could be years again before I see them both.” Sherlock used his honey to make a sticky dessert that he then placed in the fridge to set. While John finished cooking Sherlock went around their flat and tidied up, not minding doing the chores for once because John was amazing and it really was a very small thing to ask, not that John had needed to.

Twenty minutes before seven a loud rapping came from the street and both men grinned as they heard Bill shouting up at their window. John went down and let them in, and Sherlock smiled at everyone when he brought them to their flat. This should be very engaging. Smile firmly in place Sherlock walked forward to shake hands hello. It was time for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a bit of a delay on the next installment, finally breaking from my chapter-a-day-extravaganza. My schedule is pretty full so I'll be posting with slightly less frequency.


	26. Dinner with Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cam and Bill are old friend's of John's so the newlyweds are expecting company for dinner.

Bill took up space at 221 B as if he were three people instead of one. Despite Cam’s efforts he was sprawled over the sofa minutes after arriving before relocating to John’s chair which he declared too small and then claiming Sherlock’s chair as perfect, rubbing his butt all over the cushion to claim it. “You can take that home with you when you leave.” said Sherlock coldly. He’d never be able to sit in that chair again, not without some sort of decontamination procedure, perhaps Mycroft had people he could send over.

“Hi Sherlock,” Cam was smiling up at him and Sherlock had no objection to bending down and giving her a welcoming hug. It wasn’t unpleasant, even if bending did make him extra aware of his behind, it was rather like hugging Mrs. Hudson and Cam patted him on the arm when he let her go, “See, it didn’t hurt.”

“Indeed.” he replied dryly, “May I offer you a drink?” John was in the kitchen putting together the last of the salad so Sherlock let him go out to his friends while he finished. Wine poured, meal completed and waiting, Sherlock checked the table over to make sure he’d remembered to tidy up, took a deep breath and brought the tray out front. Sitting on the sofa after was an experience and it took every scrap of acting ability he had not to react when the plug shifted the tiniest amount. It felt incredibly good. He reached over and gripped John’s hand after handing his husband a glass of wine and John hummed his thanks. How did John do it? He looked completely unperturbed but he must be feeling things even more extremely than Sherlock did.

“Okay, questions. Why is there a skull on the mantle? Where did you get a buffalo head? Is it me or do I smell formaldehyde and roast beef? Where can I have a smoke? Do you know anyone we can hook Cam up with?” Bill looked around with raised eyebrows.

“Shut it Bill. I don’t need anyone _Sherlock_ or _John_ could recommend!” Cam was scowling, “And you told me you were quitting. Again.”

“I have an ashtray on the fire escape.” volunteered Sherlock hopefully. He wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t but if Bill needed to go out for a cigarette then that’s where he’d need to go. He was just being a considerate host. John gave Sherlock a stern look, not fooled for a second but was also still the best husband in the world because he stood up and fished out Sherlock’s pack from beneath the skull. Sherlock grinned. This was Christmas! “Come along Bill, dinner will be ready soon.”

Sherlock found himself squeezed onto the small metallic staircase, wedged up next to Bill but since Bill had agreed to be hands off he was surprisingly entertaining and only moderately offensive. He also snuck Sherlock a second cigarette out of his own pack even though the first one had made Sherlock feel light-headed. “So how long have you and John been together?”

“It depends on how you look at it I suppose. We met five years ago and became flatmates immediately, from there on it gets murky, and we’re still figuring it out actually. Then I was dead for two years, and when I came back to life John got married and nearly had a baby. It didn’t work out and he came back here. Everything seemed to sort itself out eventually and now we’re married.”

“How could you be dead for two years?” Sherlock went back inside, stepping through the window very mindful of his behind, and Bill followed, “Wait, Cam will want to hear this.”

She did. Over dinner which was complimented by everyone, Sherlock told Bill and Cam about James Moriarty and the tangled game he’d played against John and Sherlock. He described in brief terms how he’d gone underground so completely that John had no idea he was still alive until Sherlock had made his appearance just as John was proposing to his now not-wife. “My brother pulled some strings with the government to hurry everything along so John and I got married as soon as we could. That’s pretty much it.”

They sat back, plates well-emptied, wine glasses refilled and amazed looks on their faces. They turned and looked at John, “Why the hell did he marry _you_? He’s like some kind of Bond or something!”

“ _I know_!” exclaimed John, “I ask myself that all the time but we’re really married. Look.” John held up his mobile so Cam and Bill could examine his wedding pictures dubiously.

“You could have photoshopped that. It doesn’t prove a thing.” said Bill skeptically.

“Aw your mum is a cute as ever John! I see Harry didn’t show up.” Cam flicked Bill’s cheek with her fingertips to get him to smarten up and Sherlock noticed John flinch. He reached over and took his husband’s hand, John had dealt well with the fallout of Magnusson’s short-lived reign of terror but he was still very susceptible to triggers of all descriptions.

“John can barely open a picture to look at it. He couldn’t possible have photoshopped those. Cam, you’ve met Mrs. Watson?” Sherlock was using all his manners tonight. John deserved one peaceful evening with his friends.

“No, John always showed me pictures whenever he got them though, is his mum as cute in person?” Cam smiled over to John.

“Mrs. Watson is very agreeable. She was very gracious with me even though we gave her no warning about the wedding.” answered Sherlock.

“What? How could you do that to your mother John?” exclaimed Cam and rewarded the doctor with a dark look.

“Listen Cam, we had kind of a slow-motion yet whirlwind romance alright? Nothing ever works out normally for us.” Dessert was now being consumed and more wine as well. Sherlock frowned when he heard someone ring the bell downstairs, “Sherlock?”

“You stay John, I’ll go see.” John couldn’t walk up and down the stairs! It wasn’t very easy for Sherlock either but he managed and scowled at the pair on his stoop, “Lestrade, what in the world are you doing here?”

“I’m not here, your brother is here. John’s mum sent a present and we have to bring it in.” Sherlock looked, Mrs. Watson had sent something bulky and wrapped in fabric, “No we don’t know what it is.”

“Bring it up.” said Sherlock shortly and left Mycroft and Greg to pick up whatever it was and went back upstairs, ignoring their muttered curses as they struggled up to the flat. Walking upstairs was much more challenging than going down had been, “John, hide dessert. My brother is here to deliver a present from your lovely mother.”

Sherlock left the door open, both Bill and John, being more helpful than Sherlock, came over to assist the two men with the present that John seemed to recognize, “I can’t believe it.” John got Mycroft and Greg to set the large item on the hastily cleared coffee table. Tugging at the fabric John uncovered a large blue trunk with wide bands riveted on it. There was a collection of what looked like pieces of a chair strapped to it, “I just can’t believe it.”

“What is it John?” asked Bill who came up beside Greg to peer over the DI’s shoulder to see what everyone else was looking at. Cam was standing beside Mycroft but no one got to introducing anyone because they were watching John. The doctor picked up on the long narrow pieces of dark wood and inserted it into a small hole on another piece. It seemed to click into place. Deftly John assembled the entire thing and when it was complete there was a small furnishing waiting to be used, “I don’t know what that is.” reported Bill.

“It’s a valet.” said Sherlock, “It’s meant to hang suits to keep them from getting wrinkled, see there’s a spot for the shoes beneath.”

“It was my dad’s. Mum kept it because I don’t really wear suits.”

“But I do.” said Sherlock and felt warm inside. Mrs. Watson had given up a sentimental heirloom so Sherlock could have something from John’s father.

Bill leaned in closer, almost leaning on Lestrade, “What’s the other thing?”

“It’s a steamer trunk. My parents got it when they first got married.” said John who was clearly very moved. He opened the stiff locks after setting it on its end. When he pulled the trunk open he revealed a set of drawers and wooden hangers that were fixed to the edge of one lid. “It has everything you’d need to travel with, even an ironing board. Mum loved it. She never let us touch it.”

“We can put them in our room John, there’s plenty of space now.” John was very choked up so Sherlock made his brother help him carry everything to the bedroom and set them up near the window which was now accessible. Mycroft looked around in surprise. “We just cleaned up.” said Sherlock who felt it wasn’t his brother’s business to potentially comment on the changes in Sherlock’s private life.

“The doctor is an excellent influence.” remarked Mycroft who preceded Sherlock back to the front room.

Bill was leaning against the mantle and he was chatting with Lestrade. Bill’s eyes were filled with interest, his body leaned in just a bit but Greg didn’t seem put-off by Bill, in fact the DI seemed to find the taller man entertaining. Bill made Greg laugh twice before Mycroft crossed the room to stand behind Lestrade and try to conceal a glare. “Seriously, they’re married?”

“I was there; saw it with my own eyes, official witness with signatures and the whole deal. They’re married.” Bill was shaking his head in disbelief, “Listen, you don’t know Sherlock very well yet, that’s pretty obvious, but John is some kind of saint for dealing with that man. He deserves a medal!”

Greg didn’t know why Cam and Bill barked out twin laughs but Sherlock smiled down at his husband proudly, John did deserve medals and not just for putting up with him! Bill gave Greg a very warm smile, “I could tell you stories about John mate, where’s a good pub around here?” Bill was now grinning down at Greg who smiled back.

“There’s a place just a couple of blocks away but aren’t you having dinner with John and Sherlock?” Greg looked at Sherlock who shrugged.

“We ate.” said Bill still smiling down at Greg. Cam was standing behind her friend biting her lips to keep a smile off her face because Mycroft was simply fuming at Bill who entirely failed to notice the death glare being directed at him. “Cam won’t mind, would you mind Cam?”

“I don’t care where we go Bill, you know that. John, give us a hug. It looks like we’re going out again.” Sherlock watched Cam give his husband a hug and then received one of his own, “We’ll come back for a slightly longer visit. He did really well. This is the first time we made it all the way to dessert before he tried to take off.”

“I was going to comment,” teased John. Sherlock didn’t understand Cam’s friendship with Bill at all.

“You’re not off the hook Watson. Get your hubby ready to go out, you are coming with us. I’m really for real shipping out next week and I don’t know when I’ll be back so up you go.” Bill was looking at John with an expression that told Sherlock Bill wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Sherlock nearly protested, acutely aware of their plans for later but he saw Mycroft’s face and remembered his promise to his mother. Bill was on the prowl for Lestrade whether the DI realized it or not. With a sigh Sherlock said, “We need to change then. We’ve been in these clothes all day. Give us ten minutes, please have a seat. We’ll be right back.”

John did not look happy and hissed at Sherlock the second the bedroom door was shut, “We could be fucking in ten minutes! I don’t want to watch Bill hit on people all night! I want to get laid!”

Sherlock kissed John roughly, both men groaning and straining to touch the other but eventually he pulled away, “Mycroft will let Lestrade go out with Bill because he hasn’t progressed very far with declaring his intentions as yet. If Lestrade sleeps with Bill my brother will never pursue this relationship and Mummy will be very put out with us. What are our options?”

John’s head thumped onto Sherlock’s chest and he growled out a frustrated groan, “Fine. Take your kit off; we have to get these things out. There’s no way I can go to the pub with this in.”

It was a terrible temptation because removing the plugs was exciting and too brief. Sherlock regretted needing to help Mycroft but he’d promised Mummy and he couldn’t disappoint her. John wrapped them in a towel and after swiftly changing his clothes he left Sherlock to finish getting dressed while he washed them in the bathroom. Sherlock joined him to wash up as well and then after everything was discretely put away they checked each other over, “My bum feels tender.” reported Sherlock.

“Mine too. What a waste. You know, I don’t even like Mycroft.”

“You love Mummy though.”

“Yeah she’s great. _Fuck_. Okay. Okay, let’s just go. I really need a drink now.”

Cam was talking to Mycroft, trying in vain to get Bill to pay attention to the aristocratic man but Bill was completely focused on Greg who had yet to clue in that he was quickly becoming the meaty prize of an alpha dog fight. “Bill and I used to serve with John.”

“You still in?” asked Greg, smiling around, completely unaware that Mycroft was probably planning to have Bill transferred to the middle of Mongolia if he could arrange it.

Bill snapped off a neat salute, “Sargent Murray, at your service.” A cheeky wink was delivered and Greg smiled again. Mycroft had frozen into an expressionless statue. “This little beauty right here is my best friend, Captain Cameron Thompson.”

“You are very young to be a Captain.” remarked Mycroft.

“Just followed John’s lead though I don’t quite have the flair he does.” teased Cam, “Saving Bill’s life is a great way of climbing the ranks. He makes me look good.”

Cam shook Greg’s hand, and neatly inserted herself between Greg and Bill to lead him to the door forcing Mycroft to leave relatively close to Bill while John and Sherlock closed up the flat behind the departing group, “Where is this pub?” she asked and Greg began chatting with her as everyone left Baker Street. Bill followed behind and made no effort to conceal the fact that he was checking Lestrade out from head to toe. Mycroft’s little finger twitched several times but that was the only reaction Sherlock could see. This wasn’t good. Mycroft wasn’t even saying anything and that wasn’t like him. He always had an appropriate conversation at the ready, something to engage nearly any sort of person.

“So you’re Sherlock’s brother.” said Bill who was now looking directly at Lestrade’s behind.

“Yes.” Mycroft’s voice was coolly professional without a hint of heat.

“I see looks run in the family.” Bill flashed Mycroft a large and very interested grin and Sherlock nearly gagged. Bill was hitting on _Mycroft_? The man really had no standards. Bill nearly made Sherlock gag a second time when his wandering eyes wandered over Mycroft and then Sherlock saw the biggest, most lascivious expression he’d ever witnessed on a human being cover Bill’s face, “I bet he’s the most irritating shit of a little brother ever to walk the earth.”

Only John’s crushing grip on his hand kept Sherlock from fleeing in absolute horror when Mycroft’s face shifted from being secretly furious to being not-so-secretly pleased, “Indeed.”

“I could tell. He’s the sort to rub you the wrong way all the time just because he can. You look like you need to be rubbed the right way.” Bill winked at Mycroft who didn’t seem appalled or offended.

This was horrible. Bill was hitting on Mycroft and Lestrade right in front of Sherlock. He’d never be able to withstand the trauma of watching his brother flirt with two men at once. Sherlock looked down at his husband in desperation but John simply looked at Sherlock. Somehow John kept his voice nearly inaudible but stern, “This is what you said we have to do Sherlock. Into battle go we.”

They were at the pub and there was nowhere to run to. Sherlock took a deep shaky breath and followed the rest of the group inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will unfortunately be forced to pay attention to the outside world and therefore be unable to post daily as originally planned but that doesn't mean I won't still be writing in all my spare moment so hey, it could happen.


	27. Just a Bit Of Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Cam came for dinner and now Bill has convinced everyone to go out with him, his eyes on his latest possible conquest.

Sherlock couldn’t remember how many levels of hell there were, it had been a long time since he’d gone through Mycroft’s copy of Dante’s _Inferno_ and all Sherlock had done was color in all the o’s out of boredom. He hadn’t actually read it but some of the pictures had been pretty detailed and Sherlock was positive Bill had been featured in at least one of them. He was clearly a minion from Sherlock’s personal hell.

They were at John’s local, their group ensconced in a booth big enough to accommodate everyone. Despite Sherlock’s struggles John managed to crowd the detective in so the soldier was sitting near the edge of the horse-shoe shaped bench, preventing Sherlock from escaping. Cam was sitting beside the detective, then Bill, Greg, and finally Mycroft who had his umbrella leaned up against his thigh. Music was pounding behind them and everyone had a pint in front of them, even Mycroft. Sherlock couldn’t relax a jot.

“What’s it like working with John and Sherlock?” asked Bill, still smiling at both men and completely ignoring John and Sherlock. He had his arm around Cam and didn’t even seem to realize it.

“Well, I hate to stroke Sherlock’s ego any more but he’s bloody brilliant, the pair of them really know their stuff.” answered Greg. Sherlock noted that Lestrade was sitting marginally closer to Mycroft than he was to Bill. Mycroft was sitting rigidly, not drinking his drink.

“That’s alright, leave all the stroking up to John, they’re married now.” Greg laughed and Bill took a drink and looked directly at Mycroft, “Sherlock tells me you pulled some strings to help them get married, what other things do you pull?” Bill’s face was so innocent looking that his innuendo couldn’t have been more blatant. Greg frowned a tiny bit and Sherlock noticed how the DI’s hand moved minutely toward Mycroft’s.

“I’m adept at all manner of manipulation, my skill-set is _flexible_.” replied Mycroft pointedly and Sherlock didn’t miss Greg’s change in expression, a startled but quickly hidden look that told Sherlock that his brother had managed to impress Lestrade somehow. “I retain a minor position in government. I was owed a few favors and for my brother I was more than willing to use them.”

“Anything to settle Sherlock down, right Myc? He’s been keeping us on our toes for years now. John’s the only one who hasn’t run screaming.” Greg and John laughed but Sherlock put his arm around his husband’s shoulder. He appreciated John and was more than willing to accept any amount of ribbing. Besides that it was true. John was the only person apart from Sherlock’s immediate family that had stayed simply because he chose to. He’d _chosen_ Sherlock; no one had forced him, and Sherlock’s heart thumped almost painfully once more as another swell of love washed through him.

“What’s terrible is how we find that allowing them to dodge bullets and experiment with poisons to be the safest option.” said Mycroft and Greg laughed, patting Mycroft’s leg companionably, “Gregory does his best to keep them in line.”

“Myc does too. We’re like a containment team. Pretty good at by now too,” Greg threw a smile at Mycroft who caught it and returned it.

“Indeed, working with The Yard has been very pleasant, and I have to thank Gregory for not imprisoning them more than he has.” Bill and Cam laughed and then turned to look at John and Sherlock, “It’s been less than a handful of times.”

“Three times.” said Sherlock with a scowl. They’d been arrested three different times though honestly, one time wasn’t an arrest, they’d just woken up in the drunk tank with horrific hangovers and a wedding they were nearly late to.

“It’s better than our hospital record,” retorted John a bit defensively, “We’ve been hurt doing The Work for you loads of times.”

“True enough John, true enough. I don’t know how many middle-of-the-night calls I’ve had to make to Mycroft but it was getting a bit creepy after a bit,” Greg smiled over to Mycroft again and patted his thigh once more, “Good thing he’s such a great brother, he’s never gotten angry with me even once for waking him up.”

“I simply realize that no one would think to thank you for your endless watch over Sherlock, there is no need to chide you for each thing he’s done to himself or that he and John have gotten themselves involved in. What about the time Sherlock…” Greg and Mycroft launched into a series of _remember-when_ stories in which Sherlock had either hurt himself or was in mortal danger.

The whole table was laughing a few drinks later, even Sherlock who was a tiny bit embarrassed as Greg told Cam and Bill story after story of their cases but from his perspective and their relationship was always a cornerstone of the humor, “God they just didn’t get it! Everyone could see, and I mean everyone, I’ve got this one fellow on my team that notices practically nothing and he knew. How could they not know?” cried Greg, nearly crying with laughter now. Even Mycroft had unbent a bit and was leaning back against the padded wall behind his bench. Greg sagged back with a giggle and leaned against Mycroft just a bit.

John was red of face and Cam was having a hard time breathing because she was laughing so hard, “Oh my god John! Did you actually say things like that? Sherlock! I thought you were some kind of genius detective? How do you resist someone who follows you everywhere and tells you _you’re amazing_ all the time?”

“No no no Cam you don’t understand. Until Sherlock met John he didn’t even know he had feelings like other people! Swear! I bet he still refers to his body as his transport, that boy is all brain. He barely ate, he had terrible habits, he wouldn’t even live anywhere for more than a few weeks, he hardly sleeps. He called himself a high-functioning sociopath and no one argued, we had no evidence that he was anything but! John’s been a great influence, why no one thought Sherlock would ever make a friend but there John was, all normal and shiny and pleased as punch with that crazy bastard. Myc, what was that terrible thing you used to say all the time?”

“ _All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage_.” said Mycroft softly and there was a twinge of regret on his face. He’d indeed said those words and many times. Sherlock had believed them as fervently as his brother had but now he had John and those words were no longer true. Caring was most certainly an advantage because all lives did end and a broken heart could mend if you found someone who cared for you the right way. Sherlock hoped he’d fixed all of John’s heart-hurts but knew his lover still had sore spots and tried to be considerate.

“Wow, that’s a pretty hard way to look at life.” said Bill who hugged Cam a bit tighter, “We face death nearly every day. I’ve only fallen in love one time and it was the best thing I ever did. If caring wasn’t an advantage Cam and I would have been six feet under years ago. She cares about me and I care about her and we keep each other going. That’s how it works.”

Cam looked up at Bill with a tiny bit of surprise, “You never told me you fell in love! With who? When was this?”

Bill smiled down at her and squeezed her shoulder, “It was years and years ago, someone way too good for me. You know me babe, I always reach too far. She’s better off; even I could figure that out but enough of this. We’re skirting cry-in-your-beer territory and our song just came on. Sing it for me Cam.”

Cam rolled her eyes but the song was lively and her voice was rich and strong. “ _I'll win now but sometimes I'll lose, I've been battered, but I'll never bruise, it's not so bad, and I say way-hey-hey, it's just an ordinary day, and it's all your state of mind, at the end of the day, you've just got to say,  it's all right_.” By the time she got to the chorus Bill was singing loudly along with her in a strong baritone and they ended in harmony, “ _I've got a smile on my face and I've got four walls around me_.”

Bill hugged her tightly, his smile huge, “Aw thanks babe, you don’t sing enough. That never stops being fun.”

Cam hugged him back, her grin just as huge, “We learned that one in Canada, god that was such a fun night!”

“That was the best night we ever had. Live music John, just like always, only everyone in this place seemed to have something to play and everyone sang along. It was fantastic! Cam and I spent the whole night there and one of the guys from the band taught us the words. Those people nearly drank us under the table!”

“They drank their faces off, told stories, sang and the food! Oh god Bill, what was that thing with the chips and the cheese?” Cam smiled up into Bill’s eyes.

“ _Poutine_ , don’t forget the gravy. What about that dessert, I killed myself laughing over that.”

“ _Beaver tails_. I tell you, Canadian winters must be long because those people! Wow. They’ve got a way of filling time, I’m not kidding. I haven’t laughed so much since.”

Bill wanted to dance then and made everyone come with him so their group was shifting around on the dance floor in a tiny crowd. Bill was silly and with Cam they executed some very athletic dance moves that made John clap and laugh loudly as the pair shook their behinds side by side, moving in well-practiced synchronicity with one another as the music pounded around them. Bill was making outrageously foolish faces just to make Cam giggle, and tossing out one wink after another at either Greg or Mycroft. Each time the soldier did so Mycroft got a bit closer to Lestrade, his scowl barely in check but Sherlock noted that Lestrade didn’t seem to be any more pleased when he caught Bill winking at Mycroft.

Sherlock forgot all about watching the others when John took him into his arms for a slow dance. Then there was just the two of them, Sherlock drowning in the ocean of John’s eyes as they moved and swayed together in their own little love-filled world. They shared a soft secret smile and when the song ended John stretched up and pecked Sherlock on the lips, “I love you.” said the soldier simply.

Sherlock pulled John back and kissed the top of his head and whispered back, “I love you too John.” Bill darted off the floor to head to the lavatory and Cam went to the bar to order another round. Sherlock looked around and found Greg and Mycroft still dancing slowly together even though the song had changed and was of a much more energetic beat. The men seemed to be lost in a murmured conversation with one another and Sherlock was startled to see his brother’s face looks so open, so interested, so…Mycroft was happy.

Sherlock blinked and saw what his mother had seen. Mycroft’s entire body was relaxed unlike his normal carefully cultivated pose. One hand was resting lightly on Greg’s shoulder and the other on his waist, the DI similarly arranged to keep the civil servant close. Mycroft was comfortable around Lestrade; Lestrade seemed equally delighted to be close to Mycroft, and with a pang Sherlock realized he couldn’t allow Bill to interfere with a single flirtation, not even a tease. There was no way Sherlock was going to allow Bill to take either Mycroft or Lestrade to bed, even if they all wanted to go together. It would ruin everything; he could see that as plain as day. Something real was blossoming between them right in front of Sherlock’s eyes, and even the once self-diagnosed highly-functioning-sociopath understood that a single night could make or break their entire relationship.

The noise toward the bar became incrementally louder and Sherlock turned to look. Cam was at the bar, leaning up against the counter and speaking to a pair of men. Both of them looked burly and robust and they were leering drunkenly down at the small woman who simply held herself at ease while she waited for their order. They were clearly propositioning her but she kept shaking her head. Cam caught Sherlock’s eye and threw him a smile so he smiled back.

That’s when it happened. The smaller of the two reached out and touched Cam, cupping her breast crudely and leering some more, “John.” snapped Sherlock, dragging John toward the bar without hesitation! That man was an animal! Cam had already smacked the offensive hand away and the smiles fell off the faces of the two drunks. They grabbed her together, one man with his hand on her behind for only a moment because her fist was suddenly in his eye and he staggered back. The newly bruised ruffian swung an arm out blindly, almost connecting with Cam’s face. Suddenly there was a convergence as the bartender, the bouncer, Sherlock, John and even one or two other patrons stomped over to stop things.

Bill got there first. With one sharp blow Bill knocked the man to the floor and was standing between Cam and the second man who was at least as tall as Bill and the soldier was almost snarling, “Who the _FUCK_ do you think you are touching my girl!”

“Your girl is a whore, she’s asking for it, look at her,” said the drunk crudely, “Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it.”

“Nothing.” growled Bill who stood tall, his lips curled in a sneer. “My girl can take care of herself.” Cam did. Bill just held his arm out at a diagonal without a twitch. Cam wrapped both her hands around his forearm in a twinkling and suddenly she was nearly aloft. The bartender and bouncer managed to not make it there in time to stop Cam from using her rather heavy leather boots to stomp all over the pair. It was sudden and vicious, Cam twisting neatly in the air to make use of her slight body-weight to add impact to her strikes. Everyone heard the four dull thumps her feet made as she struck repeatedly and there was a scattering of applause when both men crumpled to the floor clutching their chests, entirely breathless. Helpful hands dragged their wheezing bodies to the alley, and left them there to recuperate. The bartender gave them their round for free.

Bill picked Cam up and tried to squeeze her in two, a huge proud grin on his face! “You are such a _badass_!” Cam’s feet were dangling high off the floor but she wasn’t trying to escape. The grin she shared with Bill was wild and full of danger. Sherlock knew that look; John got that look, usually when they were chasing down some murky alley with a deadline looming. Bill hefted her up like a trophy, “This is the toughest little lady in the world people, I know because I’ve watched this sweet little wildcat kick ass all over the fucking planet. My girl!”

“Almost time for battle Bill.” said Cam with excitement.

He hugged her tight again, his face still proud and so happy. “You know it babe, just another week and we’re back in deep. You’ll be strapped and you know I’ve got your back.”

Soldiers were a strange breed; decided Sherlock, Cam and Bill were giddy about returning to war. Mycroft and Greg came over. “Very impressive!” complimented Lestrade who got an approving smile from Bill who was beaming around. “I don’t normally get to see this end of a bar fight.”

“Well you can call your people if you want but I’m betting those two have had enough for the night.” Greg gave her a smile and Sherlock knew there were probably already Yarder’s on the way to arrest the drunken pair. Lestrade had very strict ideas of right and wrong which Sherlock supposed had something to do with his job. “I hope I’m not in trouble, it would be weird if Bill were the one bailing me out of jail for once.”

“I haven’t been arrested for ages babe,” said Bill, his eyes still glowing. He was smiling down at Cam as if he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, “You’re too strict with me.”

“You love it when I’m tough with you.” said Cam. There was a tendril of something in her expression and suddenly Sherlock wondered.

“Oh yeah babe, no one does it better.”

“Good thing I like giving orders so much.” said Cam with a teasing smile.

Bill snapped off another smart salute, “Always ready to obey, Captain.”

“Then bring the drinks to the table soldier.” Cam turned smartly on her heel and led them all back to their booth, Bill’s grin spreading from ear to ear as he followed eagerly. Everyone crowded around the table, toasting Cam and joking around. Bill had managed to sit between Cam and Greg, his head swiveling back and forth as he kept shooting the DI warm and inviting looks, his arm still tight around Cam’s shoulder. “Bill is one of the few men I’ve met who doesn’t seem to mind knowing I can break him into little pieces.”

“Are you kidding babe? That’s flat-out the sexiest quality a woman can have!” Sherlock watched with interest as Cam blushed for the first time and Bill was over the moon, “It is babe, it really is. You have no idea.” Bill looked around, “You have no idea what she can do.” he was smiling and shaking his head, “Fuck she’s incredible. You should see her move when she’s loaded down with her pack and her weapon and _fuck_! I tell you true, all the lays in all the cities I’ve ever been in combined together do _not_ add up to the amount of sexy this woman owns when she’s in uniform. She’s death _and_ sex on two legs, and she’s still my best friend.” He was hugging her with both arms now still looking so proud and pleased.

Cam was laughing now and poked Bill in the side, “You weren’t such a tart things might have been different.”

“Oh I’d give all that up for a girl like you Cam, you know it. I’d forget the list and everything, swear.” Bill’s voice was joking but his eyes weren’t but Cam wasn’t looking at Bill’s face, only Sherlock was and with sudden comprehension Sherlock realized it was Cam that Bill had fallen in love with all those years ago and that all this time he’d felt unworthy of her. “It was all just games anyway, you know, to fill the time.” Sherlock understood! It was like The Work. Sherlock had allowed The Work to consume him because he had been waiting but hadn’t even realized until John had finally shown up and become part of his life. This was how Bill coped. It wasn’t as self-destructive as drugs but it wasn’t doing him any good either. He was in love with Cam and would never tell her so instead of settling down with someone else Bill simply flittered from one empty affair to another and loved her the only way she found acceptable, as her best friend.

“You’re hitting on two men right now! You’ll never give it up!” accused Cam. Greg looked startled and stared at John and Sherlock in some surprise, “No not them. You.”

“What!” Greg was surprised and gave Bill a shocked look.

“Mycroft too, oh Bill, your powers are weakening, they didn’t even notice.” said Cam with false sympathy.

“Nah Myc has a thing for Greg and Greg seems to have a thing back. I thought I’d get the last of my list checked off tonight but I guess it’s just you and me babe.” Mycroft flushed deep red and Greg went stiff and still. Bill covered his mouth and closed his eyes.

Cam covered her face with her hands before looking up at Mycroft, “He does that.” she said apologetically. “He just says whatever comes into his head. He means no harm.”

“Sorry. So sorry! Wasn’t my place to say anything, Cam, why don’t you muzzle me when I get like this?” Bill looked chagrined again.

Cam laughed and looked up at him, her eyes bright and warm, “Because I love it when you get like this and we tried a muzzle once, remember? You drank through a straw all night and it changed nothing. You make me laugh Bill, and even though you gave Greg and Mycroft a bit of a start there I don’t think they really minded.”

Greg and Mycroft were smiling softly at one another and after they excused themselves together to go talk Sherlock heaved a bit of a sigh of relief. John was looking at Cam and Sherlock was very surprised to hear his husband say, “You two need to hook up together, tonight. Don’t wait another five years like I did with Sherlock.”

“No! John, no! God no! Why would you do that to Cam? She’s your friend!” protested Bill instantly, “I’m just some idiot pilot with yoyo knickers but Cam is some kind of warrior princess. She needs a proper bloke, not some old used-up flyboy.”

“Bill I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever _do you hear me_!” shouted Cam, “You’re not an idiot. I can’t argue the knickers part but you are _not_ an idiot. You’re brilliant and the absolute best friend a body could have. You’re brave and selfless and you’ve risked yourself a thousand times to make sure I’m okay. If I settled for anyone Bill it would be you.”

Bill was absolutely floored. Sherlock had a moment of social clarity and tugged on John’s sleeve. “I believe everyone has things to discuss now John, perhaps we should head back home and let them.” Mycroft and Greg were still ensconced in a relatively private corner together, not exactly touching but much closer than polite conversation called for. Cam had a strained look on her face but the look she gave John was calm and full of determination. Bill sat up straight, the foolish drunk falling away until only the soldier remained.

“Good idea love. Cam, Bill. Call us tomorrow yeah?” without letting them reply John just took his husband’s hand and led Sherlock out to the street. They stood there for a minute and looked at the exit, “It’s been a strange night.”

“I hope both couples work things out John. I find that Bill and I have a great deal in common.” John looked up, “Both of us are in love with our best friend.”

“Maybe he’ll be smart enough to catch her. She’s worth the effort.”

“Just like you John. You’re worth everything.” Sherlock kissed his soldier tenderly, “Let me take you home my John, I’d like to show you what you mean to me.” Sherlock received a love filled smile and suddenly he felt filled with light. Two new couples were taking their fledgling steps but he had taken his with his John already and now was the time to reap the reward for his persistence.

“Experiment?”

“Experiment.”

 

 

the real Cam is a real badass

[Great Big Sea - Ordinary Day](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wcjBU8zbdY)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I threw this together MEGAFAST even for me and tomorrow is an idk situation for updates so hold tight because I have ideas thanks to a convo with Geekishchic.


	28. Small Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cupid has done the rounds and it looks like we have some potentially happy couples in the making. There's nothing left to do now but go home and enjoy time alone.

 

Sherlock was thoughtful as he walked home, his arm in John’s as they strolled comfortably down the pavements. His new appreciation of Bill was a reflection of himself and he was stricken anew over how delicate his situation with John was. How much had he made John suffer, it was beyond calculating. Bill had willingly stood and watched his heart throw herself into danger again and again, content to let her do as she needed because he loved her. John was the same. He’d stood back and allowed Sherlock to do what he needed to do, supporting him with his friendship when no one else would trouble themselves in the least. The payment for this great gift had been years of grief and sorrow, none of which Sherlock had made up for, not in the least. He’d made his apologies, explained everything to John, and received his forgiveness but that wasn’t enough. Sherlock realized it was only a beginning. It could take years but Sherlock would pay John back in happiness. For every lonely tear his soldier had tried to fight back Sherlock would do something to amaze his John, to give him something good to feel to balance the sorrow until John knew only happiness.

Sherlock understood that he was new to tenderness, of showing affection. He understood compliments though and decided to embark on an odyssey of appreciation with his soldier. He felt strange urges and was unsure of his desires but John always made things so easy for Sherlock. They made their way inside and hung away their coats, “Tea?” asked John.

Sherlock shook his head and stepped close to John to kiss him softly, “Bed.” Sherlock’s voice was deep and low. John’s smile was a bit crooked because he had an expression akin to Bill’s permanent leer, “Right now John.”

John took Sherlock’s hand and both them made their way directly to the bedroom, “Clothes.” said John before he let Sherlock kiss him, “My beautiful man,” sighed John, his face almost serious as he looked Sherlock over from head to toe, “I almost didn’t have you.” _Oh John!_ Sherlock found himself pushed back onto the bed, John’s mouth glued to his, their teeth nearly clashing from the ferocity of it. John sounded ragged when he broke it off, his eyes searching Sherlock’s, “We almost weren’t. Things could have happened so differently so many different times, how you made it so long being so alone…god that kills me just thinking about it.” John kissed Sherlock hard again, “I never want you to feel alone again Sherlock. I never want you to feel like you aren’t loved because you are. I love you.”

Sherlock’s head was swimming. John was ardent and impassioned. He could feel his body respond to his husband, felt his arms and legs twine about John in a love-filled embrace. “I love you John, I love you so much my magnificent soldier.”

Both of them nearly jumped out of their skins when someone began to hammer at the door on the street. John scowled ferociously, “If that’s Bill I’m coming back, getting my gun, and shooting him.”

“The Yard will never know it’s you.” promised Sherlock hotly. Bill could go straight back to hell! Both men pulled on their pants and quickly tugged on teeshirts, stuffing their feet into house-shoes and clattered downstairs where a curler-wearing Mrs. Hudson was standing at the door looking down the barrel of a handgun. There was a blond man standing there and he had something at his feet.

“David?” said John, his voice filled with surprise and consternation, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Walk right toward me Watson, no fast moves. Holmes, you so much as twitch I am popping this old lady right in the head, she’ll be dead before she hits the floor.” Sherlock froze on the second to last step. John had already moved out of reach, his hands up as he did as he was told, “Stop right there. Kneel.”

John knelt and Sherlock was filled with horror. Why was David here? Was he going to shoot John? Was his husband about to be executed right in front of him? A wail filled the air and for a moment Sherlock thought he’d lost control of himself but John was reaching forward just as David was stepping back, “Oh my god it’s the baby.” said John.

“Mary named it something, I don’t know what, I don’t give a fuck. She’s dead by the way, they let her live until the kid was doing okay and then…you don’t give a shit anyway. Take it. I don’t want it. It’s not mine. Mary was a lying fucking cunt so this little parasite is yours. Now, as a payback for me not just offing your kid when I had the chance, you are going to give me a good day’s head start. I’m fucking leaving this god-damned country. It probably needs food. Close the door Watson, remember, I could have just killed it. No one would have known.”

John didn’t even look up. He just reached out and pushed the door shut on David’s face. The second it was closed Mrs. Hudson leaned against the wall, her hands clutched to her chest and Sherlock made it to John’s side in two long steps. John was still kneeling there, looking at a baby-carrier. Wails were still filling the air, “She’s hungry. We have no formula. The shops are closed. Sherlock, I’m calling the maternity ward at St. Bart’s I will make one of the nurses give us a supply to last till tomorrow. Mrs. Hudson, I need something soft for her to sleep in, Sherlock, get dressed, go now. The nurse might have other things for you.”

Sherlock didn’t argue though he was so shocked he could hardly think. The baby was John’s and David had simply handed her over! Sherlock knew that the child was the one part of the whole relationship that had still hurt him but now…Sherlock didn’t know what to think but the infant was very small and she sounded quite unhappy. He yanked on his Belstaff and got into his street shoes. John was already nearly at the door, so Sherlock stepped aside but pecked his husband on the cheek and just left.

The nurse was waiting at the main station when Sherlock arrived by taxi which stayed for the return trip, “There’s newborn formula ready to eat, it just needs warming. There’s cans of premixed and should be enough for a couple of days. This is a package of nappies and wipes, some creams you will need, baby soap, as well as a couple of rompers for the baby to use tonight. Tell John congratulations, we didn’t know he was expecting.” Sherlock couldn’t say a word. He just nodded his thanks and raced back to the taxi, paying extra to have the speed limit tested. He tipped the driver heavily as he was dropped off at Baker Street and nearly ran up the stairs to their home.

John was in the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson and they were at the sink giggling and cooing, “She pooped and needed a little bit of a bath, didn’t you darling. Yes you did, you’re all clean now though aren’t you little angel? Daddy got you all nice and clean, yes he did.” John’s voice was filled with gentle happiness and a generous amount of love.

Sherlock skidded to a halt and held out the bag, “I’ve got soap.” he offered and winced. He sounded like an idiot. “The nurse gave us a generous amount of supplies, everything we need tonight should be here.” he approached the sink gingerly and Mrs. Hudson stepped aside to let him look.

The baby was fat, pink, had a dusting of nearly white hair on her head, and smoky blue eyes. She had John’s nose. It was blatantly John’s nose; Sherlock would recognise that nose anywhere. She had John’s ears too. The child’s lips were also John’s but her cheeks were Mary’s. Sherlock was purely astonished, “John you have a baby!” That was really John’s baby! John had made a human being!

“I think you mean _we_ have a baby. I’m going to be the daddy so who do you want to be? Papa? Pere? Dada?”

“John you have a baby.” repeated Sherlock. The shock was wearing off now that he could see the little girl.

“Yes Sherlock, I can see that. Here she is. A baby. My baby.” John’s face was soft and happy. Sherlock sat on a kitchen chair and Mrs. Hudson patted his shoulder before setting out everything he’d picked up. In a trice she had a pot of water on the stove and was showing John how to warm the bottle for the baby. While the water heated she also showed them how to put a nappie on the tiny infant, “How old would she be?”

“I’m not sure Sherlock; Mary’s due date was about two weeks ago. This little one couldn’t be older than that.” The child had been born right after John and Sherlock had finally gotten together. So much had happened in nearly no time at all. He’d gone from being single and alone to being a married man with a child. John was jiggling the baby in his arms and making odd little sounds at her. The child seemed fascinated as John played with her tiny toes and tickled her little tummy. Her leg kicked spastically and John just melted, “She’s gorgeous, just gorgeous.”

Mrs. Hudson had the bottle ready and showed both men how to test it before they tried it on the little girl. She made a bit of a face but was soon latched hungrily to the bottle, draining it down to the last drop in almost no time. John put her up on his shoulder and patted her firmly until she burped hugely. The effort seemed to be too much for her and by the time John had her cradled again she was sleeping. “She’s so little.” Sherlock had never been this close to a baby before, had certainly never seen one naked, and the smell! She smelled like a fresh baked cookie and John! “Can I hold her?”

John eyes were reddened a bit but his smile was a bright as it had ever been. He nodded and very carefully transferred the tiny bundle into Sherlock’s arms. He was instantly charmed. She was so very small and she looked and smelled like John. Maybe she would grow up sassy and impudent, her little nose into everything because Sherlock would encourage her to be curious. Maybe she would be a spitfire, almost certainly she would be, she was the product of John and the person they only knew as Mary. The child would be clever and brave and Sherlock would get to witness her changes every single day for the rest of her life, a whole person who developed in front him and became a complex organism compared to the simple functioning system now limp in his arms, unaware that her presence had changed everything for them forever.

“Where will she sleep?” said John suddenly, “She can’t sleep with us! What if we crush her in the night? She can’t stay upstairs alone, it’s cold and she’s so little.”

“Oh John, when I was small my mother used to tuck my little brothers or sisters in the bottom drawer.” Mrs. Hudson was taking everything in stride as if receiving unexpected babies at one in the morning were completely normal. “Sherlock run down to my flat and get some of the blankets in my hall cupboard, the topmost shelf.”

Sherlock once again did as he was asked without protest. Mrs. Hudson’s cupboard was stuffed to bursting with crocheted blankets. He tried to take only two but four made a break for it and he couldn’t get them back in again so he gave up and just brought all of them. “I’ll empty the drawer.”

Sherlock’s bureau was wide and made of dark wood. The very bottom drawer had just been cleaned out and refilled with Sherlock’s rolled up ties. He scooped them out unceremoniously, folded one of the blankets into a pad and fit it in. He then laid a second one over it and made sure all the sides were covered. John came in with Mrs. Hudson. The baby was now in a sleeper and John laid her on a large clean tea towel. Mrs. Hudson wrapped her up tight till she was a fat little sausage, “It’s called swaddling. She’ll sleep better. They don’t roll around at this age, so unless she wakes up she’ll be perfectly safe in the drawer.”

The baby was laid gently in the drawer and John laid another blanket loosely over her. Both men knelt there and just watched her sleep. It was a long time before they realized Mrs. Hudson had left them alone, “She is beautiful John. What are you going to call her?”

“I have no idea. God this is so much, I’m just reeling here. How are you so calm?” John looked at Sherlock, “Oh god, you’re not calm are you. Sherlock, are you okay?”

“We have a baby John. A person, a very small, very vulnerable little person who is going to need us around the clock for years! I’m more than okay, I’m fantastic. Dear lord John we have a baby!” Sherlock was hugging John tight and John was squeezing Sherlock so hard Sherlock worried his ribs might be bruised. He decided that would be acceptable.

Neither man was interested in moving away but eventually John said, “We need rest. She’s going to wake up eventually and we’ll need to be somewhat alert.”

They got ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom so one of them was always with the still sleeping child. When they climbed into bed Sherlock got right back out, fetched John’s pillows from upstairs so they could prop themselves up at see her. “This was not what I was expecting to do on our honeymoon.” said John.

“We’re not having very much luck having one.” admitted Sherlock. Apart from the fantastic and clearly not plentiful enough sex they hadn’t done anything differently than normal, not really. “I want to have sex now but she’s right there.”

“Yeah, I’d feel pretty weird about that.” they lapsed into silence. They’d had a lot of very exciting plans for tonight. Lying in bed together and watching a baby sleep hadn’t even been considered an option. “Where are we going to keep her? This flat is packed.”

“We’ll discuss things with Mrs. Hudson; perhaps we can rent the basement suite? We can use it for storing my work related things, they take up most of the space and we really shouldn’t keep those sorts of things around an impressionable mind. That would leave your room free for the baby. We can get one of those baby monitors but honestly, Mycroft would probably wire this entire building for us just for the thrill.”

“I wonder how he’ll feel about being an instant uncle.”

“I can’t wait to bring her to the Yard. Donovan is going to have a stroke.”

“Your mother is going to cry again.”

“ _Your_ mother is going to cry, and probably your dad.”

“Harry’s reaction will be interesting.”

“We’ll need to go shopping tomorrow. We should do it while Cam and Bill are still in town, we’ll need help packing things upstairs.” friends helped friends didn’t they?

“Oh god Cam and Bill! They are going to freak out! I told them to call tomorrow. I’ll text Cam after we wake up and tell her to come meet us somewhere.” John and Sherlock were spooning now, Sherlock pressed to John’s back as they lay on their sides and kept watching the little girl sleep.

“Mycroft will probably want to find out what happened to Mary. If you need to process any paperwork, it would be best if we went through him.” John nodded. These were deep thoughts to be having so early in the morning. “You should sleep John. I’ll stay awake a while longer.”

John looked reluctant but eventually turned in Sherlock’s arms so he was nestled against his husband who had obligingly turned so he was on his back. John rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and closed his eyes, his hand pushing up under Sherlock’s pajama top. “I love you Sherlock. I know this is a huge surprise but I’m really happy this happened.”

“I know John, I’m very happy too. I love you and I shall be very honored to help you raise your daughter. Sleep now sweetheart, we’re parents now. One of us needs to rest.” Sherlock swept his hand up and down John’s back slowly the way he knew soothed John so well. It worked and only a few minutes later John was snoring softly, hard asleep. Sherlock lay in bed and was both terrified and euphoric. He knew almost nothing of children. He understood their lives would never be the same. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to help John but Sherlock would change every single thing in his life if he needed to if that’s what it took to make his family happy.

His family.

Sherlock had a family. He took a deep steadying breath and smiled upward hard for a moment. It felt good inside. He had no idea what he was doing but he was with John and they would figure it out.

Two hours later the baby woke, her little body startling awake. She began to cry but Sherlock slipped out of bed as quickly as he could without waking John and scooped her up, “There there little one, no need for fuss.” He picked up the spare blanket and tossed it over his shoulder , tucking her into his arm over it and flipping it back up so she was snugged into his arms, warm and safe. He packed her around the flat, her little eyes darting here and there. “This is daddy’s laptop and daddy’s desk. This is where I work on daddy’s laptop. I broke mine but don’t tell daddy that. Are you hungry? I should be able to manage to reheat another bottle.

Sherlock read the formula instructions intently. It was a bit difficult doing it one handed but after not too long he had a second bottle ready to heat when he felt her little behind move. She wailed in his arms. “Oh my.” he said, a bit disconcerted. He lay the blanket on the table and began to unwrap her. A quick check revealed that a mess had been made but Sherlock wasn’t put off. He dealt with dead bodies and all manner of revolting human by-products out of curiosity. A little bit of fresh stools from a baby was nothing. He cleaned her up neatly, gave her a quick wash, and had her in fresh nappies in no time. She was quite rubbery. He bundled her up, not as deftly as Mrs. Hudson but it seemed acceptable to the little girl. Sherlock carried her to the sofa where he sat with her in his arms.

“I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Sherlock Holmes. I’m married to your biological father and shall be assuming the role of father figure during your developmental period. A word to the wise, model yourself after your father and not me.” he put the bottle to her mouth and smiled when she latched greedily. “You’re a good eater, just like your father. He’s very fond of food.”

She needed a different angle so Sherlock swiveled around and put his legs up on the sofa and continued to feed her. He talked about John the entire time until she was done, then he copied John by putting her on his shoulder and patting her firmly. A loud belch signified his success. Perhaps he should chart some information. He walked over to John’s laptop and opened it. Cradling the baby in one arm Sherlock put together a spreadsheet and with the help of the kitchen scales and a ruler Sherlock determined all her measurements, and began a record of her caloric intake patterns. This would be very interesting. Her needs would change on a day by day basis, this would never stop being interesting. He added a line to track her sleep patterns because she was out again. Sherlock yawned. She’d slept nearly three hours before waking. If she followed a pattern he should have three hours to get some sleep, more than enough time.

Sherlock went to the bedroom and put her back in her drawer, making sure she looked comfortable and was properly covered. John was snoring enthusiastically now and Sherlock just cuddled his soldier tight to him. “I love you John, good night.”

“Lub ‘oo.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Ravenwolf36 for helping me with this bit. I've kind of had this idea since the beginning.


	29. Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has received a MOST unexpected surprise but shockingly Sherlock seems completely fine with it.

 

 

When Sherlock woke next he was in the room alone but he could hear John and Mrs. Hudson out front laughing and chattering to one another merrily. Eagerly Sherlock got out of bed and after a quick refreshing trip to the loo he went out front to kiss his family good morning. “I think I figured out a name.” said John with a big bright smile. He was still in his pajamas and robe. Mrs. Hudson was perched in John’s chair with a big basket of muffins in front of her but John was cross-legged on the sofa with the baby propped up between his legs so she could see around.

Sherlock leaned down and gave his husband a warm kiss and Mrs. Hudson cooed happily, “What have you chosen?”

“Well, I took a bit of a look online and I think I’m going to call her Meli. I went through all our family names but really, everyone uses the same twenty names over and over again, why do you think the name _John_ is so common? Anyway, I wanted something easy but different, at least for us. It’s Greek but it means…”

“ _Honey_.” Sherlock knew a lot about bees and had studied research in several different languages.

“Yeah. Sentimental I know, but…” John was a bit embarrassed looking.

“It’s perfect John.” it really was. The baby was a sweet surprise, his husband was so happy, and Sherlock really did love sweet things. “I have two sweethearts now when I never thought I’d have any.”

“Oh Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson was dabbing her eyes with the corner of a tissue, “I always knew you were a romantic. All that music wasn’t for nothing.”

Sherlock sat beside John and held out his arms, John obligingly handed the baby over. “I just fed her.”

“She ate last night. How much did you give her? What time did she wake up? Has she had a change yet? I have a chart, we need to keep track.” John was laughing softly and Mrs. Hudson was shaking her head but smiling.

“I’ll make a note for you, alright? Right now I’m going to make the grownups breakfast and then we have a lot to do.” Indeed they did.

“How are you doing Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson’s face was kind. Sherlock smiled over to her.

“It was greatly unanticipated but I am not discontent. Are you alright? You had a terrible shock last night.” Mrs. Hudson waved dismissively.

“After all this time Sherlock I think it would take a bit more than seeing a gun waved around to ruin my night and besides, look at what we have. Hello Meli! Hello little baby!” Mrs. Hudson cooed and waved at the little girl but Meli was already dozing off.

“She sleeps a lot.”

“Well she has a lot of growing to do; it takes a lot of effort.” she said warmly, “I’m heading over to see Mrs. Turner. She’s got some lovely patterns for baby blankets. We’ll have to arrange a baby shower. Oh this is so wonderful!” She got up and patted Sherlock’s arm before bidding John farewell.

The doctor called Sherlock into the kitchen where they took turns holding the baby so they could eat. As soon as they were done they made an extensive list of things to do, the first of which was calling Mycroft. “You have to come to Baker Street as soon as you can manage.” said Sherlock, “It’s quite serious.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Sherlock wasn’t sure but he was almost certain he’d heard Lestrade in the background. He hoped so. It would be nice to deliver all the good news to his parents all in one go.

Sherlock had time let John quickly shower before his brother arrived so the doctor was just coming out of the bedroom when Mycroft rapped politely at the door. The doctor answered it with a huge smile and stood back to let Mycroft…and Lestrade…into the front room, “Why is my brother holding a baby?” said Mycroft sounding more than a little mystified.

“Mycroft, Greg, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Meli.” John was clearly enjoying the look of stunned shock on both men’s faces, “We had a busy night last night.” John quickly described how Mary’s boyfriend had shown up right after they’d gotten home and his request for a full day’s lead.

Mycroft looked at his watch, “What time was that?”

“About half-twelve.” said John and Mycroft nodded.

“He said the mother is deceased? I have not been notified and I was supposed to have been.” Mycroft looked displeased. “She was to be kept alive for a good many reasons, someone has greatly overstepped themselves.” Mycroft looked down at John, “I will of course arrange for Meli to be properly registered as your natural daughter, who should be listed as the mother? The name Mary Morstan does not legally exist.”

“Would you tell me her real name then?” Mycroft shook his head, “Jane Doe I guess. She’ll always be an unknown in our lives.”

“I apologise John, the clearance level required to be privy to that information is beyond my jurisdiction to grant. I will have my team prepare all the necessary documentation.” Mycroft kept looking at Sherlock who was cuddling Meli closely.

“Sherlock needs to be a part of it somehow. If something ever happens I don’t want him left out! We both have to be legally responsible for her.” John was adamant and Sherlock felt warmed right to his core. John wanted Sherlock to be a part of his daughter’s life in every way possible. “Do you want to hold her?”

“I do!” said Lestrade who pushed his way forward instantly, “I love kiddies. Hi baby doll! Hi! Its Uncle Greg, look at my face, remember my face, I’m your _favorite_ uncle. G-R-E-G…” Sherlock took Meli back, “Hey, I wasn’t finished bonding with her yet!”

“I can only hope I stopped the process in time!” Sherlock stood behind John as if to shield her, “She doesn’t need to be exposed to other potential paternal influences until _we’ve_ gotten a chance. She’s only been with us a few hours. Maybe when it’s her first birthday you can hold her again.”

Lestrade was laughing softly, “What about your brother?”

“Mycroft is no danger. Children are naturally repelled by him.” case in point Meli began to cry as soon as Sherlock handed her over to his brother but Mycroft simply adjusted how he was holding her so she was resting on his chest near his heart and she calmed. “She’s been struck mute with terror.” exclaimed Sherlock, “Give me back my child.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes but handed Meli back, spitefully giving her to John but Sherlock was fine with that. Someone would lose a limb trying to take Meli away from John if he decided they shouldn’t have her. “Anthea can select some appropriate furnishings and clothing for the child. I’ll have her drop by later with a team of decorators.”

“No!” John looked angry, “This is my kid and I’m going to take care of her. Thank you for your offer Mycroft and if you want to give your niece a present then that’s fine but Sherlock and I will be more than able to get her whatever she needs!”

“John, don’t be rash. Mycroft send the team anyway. The least they can do is transfer everything to the basement suite. We can turn it into our office for doing The Work. Your room needs to be properly cleaned and repainted anyway, and we’ll need to get rid of your old bed. Meli is already too big for it.”

“Ha ha Sherlock but alright, if that’s okay with Mycroft,” John looked at Mycroft who was simply sending his order off into the ether. “We still need to organize the finances with Mrs. Hudson.”

“Since you have actually married my brother and this child is to be considered both of yours I should probably tell you that Sherlock is now entitled to a much larger portion of the family Trust. It is substantial, more than enough to cover the rental of the additional suite as well as pay for nannies or nurse, and eventually tutors when she is older, if you choose. There will also be an education fund for her, as part of the Holmes family she will receive the finest education in any area she decides to pursue. I will contact Mummy and Papa after you speak to them. They will get the family barrister to contact you. When do you plan to tell them?” Mycroft looked at Sherlock, “They will want to know. They’re still in town. I can also organize travel for Mrs. Watson to return to London.”

“Wow Mycroft. That’s…wow, I wasn’t expecting that at all.” John was obviously torn. He was a proud man and he didn’t want to look like he was receiving handouts.

“John can oversee the money, I’ve never wanted it but it will be very useful for Meli. We won’t be working as much now that we have a child, her care must come first over our own needs and interests.” John’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes got that soft look again, “John, you can’t have thought that I would place The Work over you or your child?”

“I guess I hadn’t really thought of it Sherlock, I can’t imagine you not doing The Work.” John looked a bit stunned.

“Well we won’t stop completely but only cases where we can manage Meli. It will be well John, you’ll see.” Sherlock did love The Work because puzzles fascinated him but here in his arms was one of _the_ greatest of challenges. John was offering him the ultimate sign of trust, the care of his only child. John was willing, even eager, to allow Sherlock to help shape his child and ready her to face a world that had done them both so much ill. “Neither of us shall regret this John.”

“John. I _volunteer_ to be your on-call baby-sitter _any time_ you want if you three will come to the Yard with me right now. Please. Everyone has to see this. No one in the world is ever going to believe you’ve got a kid.” Lestrade’s face was in danger of splitting in two from the size of his grin, “Please! I’ll even pay for your taxi there.”

“Greg, forget it. I’m not bringing my baby to The Yard! It’s filled with criminals plus everyone who’s actually in jail. No. We have more important things to do. Meli needs all sorts of things and we have to go out soon to get them. I’ve got friends in town to tell, I still have my mother to call, and Sherlock needs to call his parents. We’ll come to the Yard when things are more settled.” John was adamant so Greg satisfied himself with several pictures; including a group shot with all of them crowded around Meli’s sleeping form.

John went to their bedroom and called his mother. Sherlock could hear Mrs. Watson weeping over the phone from the next room where he was cuddling Meli as she continued to sleep. She smelled so good that he kept her little round head high on his shoulder where it was easy to turn his face and bury his nose in her silky curls. He was in love all over again. She was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. John came out after nearly twenty minutes, “She’ll come on the train today. She’s practically out the door already. I didn’t bother telling Harry, she still hasn’t even tried to contact me about our wedding though mum said she called yesterday.”

John took Meli away from Sherlock and forced a mobile in his hand. Making a bit of a face Sherlock called his mother, “We have extraordinary news.”

“What is it dear? You and John didn’t get divorced did you?” Mummy was always full of teases.

“Never say that, Mummy, do you recall the very last thing Mary said to John?”

“ _It’s not yours_. What a cold woman she is. What a thing to confess right out in the street in front of the neighbors.” Mary had done that? John hadn’t told Sherlock that.

“She lied.”

“ _What_? The baby really is John’s? Oh Sherlock, you have to call your brother! John has to be able to at least see his baby! Where are they, do you know? How is John? How did you find out?”

“Mummy…Mummy listen, we found out last night. Mary’s partner was here, David. Apparently Mary isn’t alive anymore, we don’t know what happened but he brought the baby here. He didn’t want her so he just gave her to John. You have a grand-daughter. John named her Meli.” Mummy burst into tears and handed the phone to Sieger to whom Sherlock had to explain everything all over again. John was right, his father wept joyfully, “We’re going out to get her supplies this afternoon but I’m sure John will want you to see her as soon as possible. Mrs. Watson is arriving on the train later on.” Mummy got Sherlock to find out when and planned to pick her up themselves. “Very well Mummy. Meli is hungry again, I have to go fix her bottle.” for some reason this made Mummy cry all over again so Sherlock just shook his head and ended the call.

John gave Meli back and together they got her changed and a fresh bottle prepared. They had nothing extra to dress her in except the rompers they’d gotten from Bart’s. “We need so many things.” worried John. He shook his head and called Bill and Cam, putting them on speaker, “Listen, we need a bit of help today just packing some things around, can you lend a couple pairs of hands? There’s a surprise in it if you say yes.”

“Whatever John, I’m exhausted so whatever it is better be really important or I’m kicking you in the face.” Cam sounded worn right out.

“I guess you worked things through with Bill last night?”

“When that becomes your business Watson I’ll let you know.” snapped Cam which was a yes as far as Sherlock was concerned. Meli started to cry. “John did I just hear a baby? Are you out somewhere?”

“No we’re at home. If you want to find out more meet us asap.”

“We’re on our way. Bill, get dressed, John’s waiting.”

“You’re on speaker. Sherlock now knows you slept with Bill.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Watson!”

“Good morning Cam. Good morning Bill. Please moderate your language, there are tender ears present.” admonished Sherlock who’d covered Meli’s ears with his hands. He got up and walked her around which soothed her instantly. “We’ll see you very soon.”

Less than half an hour later Cam and Bill were staring at Meli in shock, “Oh my god, why is she so pretty when she looks so much like you?”

“My sides hurt from laughing when you joke like that.” said John, “She is beautiful though isn’t she?” he quickly explained what happened and they were stunned all over again.

“Some bloke just pulled a gun on your landlady, dropped off a baby, and waltzed out of London?” asked Bill flatly. “What’s he look like? If I ever come across him I’m going to fucking rip him to pieces.”

“Language Bill!” snapped Cam. “You are a _terrible_ shot! I’ll do the killing thank you very much. So John, what does this David character look like? You never know, we could get lucky.”

“Please don’t kill people for us. What we need you to do is help us buy a load of baby things and get them upstairs so my kid has someplace to sleep that isn’t Sherlock’s tie drawer. Mycroft is sending people over to empty the room out and do a bunch of other things this afternoon but she needs food, and nappies, and she has two borrowed rompers to her name. She needs a lot of things!”

“Did I die and go to heaven?” asked Cam with a grin. “You want me to spend your money all afternoon buying cutesy baby things? I am there. Bill is really strong. We can load him like a mule.”

“That’s super funny babe but I’m all weak today for some reason. Must be the no sleep I got last night and we’re not even going to discuss the chafing or the rug burn.” Cam’s face turned crimson but Bill just looked content.

“Well, have some coffee and buck up soldier. We’re on a mission.” stated Cam. “Come on boys, we’ve got shopping to do.”

Sherlock made sure Meli was strapped safely into her carrier and everyone argued over who got to actually carry it, “She’s my daughter, I’ll do it.” he finally snapped. John’s shoulder would hurt from carrying the heavier than expected weight and Sherlock didn’t trust anyone except John. “We’ve only got a few hours before John’s mum gets here. Let’s go.” taking John’s hand Sherlock led his husband down the street with Cam and Bill following them with grins on their faces and hands linked together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nbboston – suggested Mel - I love that name  
> Ravenwolf36 suggested Meli nearly at the same time. 
> 
> Researched proved that Meli is indeed Greek for ‘honey’ and therefore the baby has been named. Thanks for everyone who sent me their suggestions. It was a tough choice.
> 
> I think this is nearly the end of this fic. I might cap off in one or two chapters but I have the sense that this story is nearly over.


	30. Cakes and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have so much to do now the Meli is here.

Sherlock checked his list carefully. After making sure each line was ticked off he walked around the flat and examined everything in detail, adjusting anything that needed adjusting before going to the kitchen where John was also just finishing up, “Everyone will be here soon.” said the smaller man with a smile, “Everything good to go?”

“The streamers are up, the balloons have been appropriately hung, there are extra chairs out and I’ve made sure the carpet has been hoovered and all the child guards are in place.” Sherlock leaned down to kiss Meli’s riotous curls. They bushed out from her head and waved around in faintly reddish coils, “Good morning Birthday Girl.”

Meli was turning one today and was rosy cheeked and happy. Mycroft had looked into Mary’s case and had ascertained when Meli had been delivered, providing John and Sherlock with the exact time and date but no other information. When pressed several times Mycroft admitted he’d done a full investigation and was satisfied with what he had learned he refused to divulge anything more, not even about David whom he simply said was _no longer a problem_. They’d left it at that. They had their little girl and that’s what was important. Today was a big day, bigger even than their first anniversary which they’d actually celebrated with a private evening in while The League of Babysitters took care of the most adored baby in London.

The League was comprised of Mycroft, his newly espoused husband Greg, Violet and Sieger when they were in town which was often now, Mrs. Watson because she had moved to London and lived only fifteen minutes away, Molly and her radiologist husband Michael who had to leave their cats behind when they babysat, Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner, and of all the huge surprises Sherlock had had this last year or more, Sally Donovan. After learning that Sherlock had not only _married_ John but was fully planning on parenting John’s child, Detective Donovan had undergone a complete about-face regarding her opinion of Sherlock’s character. It seemed that now that she had ample proof that he was capable of feelings her previous worries about his possible predilections had been laid to rest. She also did amazing voices when she read stories and Meli loved that. The end result of the vast social spectrum that her additional caregivers covered was Meli being known to all levels of government, law enforcement, and a good portion of the medical establishments in London as well as any number of museums and parks.

There was already a large stack of presents waiting for Meli in the living room. Sherlock had gotten a bit of a talk from John about excess but the words turned to dust when the doctor shamefacedly revealed the small stash he’d been hiding at work which at least matched the size of Sherlock’s. Bill and Cam had shipped over their present about a month ago, both of them happily doing what they did best and doing it together like always. They’d staunchly refused to wed, declaring living in sin to be the very best choice for the two of them. They made a point of starting a new game of countries, this time sending Meli little keepsakes from all over the globe. John kept them in their steamer trunk in their bedroom with all the rest of the things he felt were important.

John handed Sherlock a cup of tea as soon as the detective sat down. Meli was sitting in her high chair vigorously stuffing dry cereal into her mouth with both hands and missing quite a bit of it. She wasn’t really trying to eat; she just seemed to like the feel of it rubbing against her entire face. John had given a go at dressing her for her party but Sherlock tch’d, John really had the worst dress sense. Well, Meli would be a mess before their guests arrived so he said nothing and just planned to change her into something more appropriate than mismatched socks and jim-jams that he’d had hidden away and waiting for today.

Sherlock took the kiss John gave him and gave him another one in return before attempting to drink his tea after picking out cereal that was now floating on top of it and turning on their laptop to check their mail, “Ten more cases John. This is getting to be unmanageable.”

Far from leaving The Work behind Sherlock had only become more famous and sought after when Meli arrived. Somehow her tiny presence had shifted not only Donovan’s opinion, but the opinions of hundreds of thousands of people, all of whom seemed to know how to contact John via his blog. They never lacked for work which is why the League had been born. John and Sherlock only worked between set hours but sometimes it couldn’t be helped, like if one of them had been kidnapped _on accident_ and _wasn’t_ able to call his husband at the clinic, then it was a _good thing_ that Mrs. Hudson was able to call Mycroft and Greg to come fetch Meli for the night. Rescuing Sherlock came later, and it hadn’t been his fault, he hadn’t expected to be kidnapped while coming home from doing some investigation. Really sometimes John fussed too much about the wrong things. He should have been pleased so many trustworthy people wanted to help with their baby and Lestrade had arrested the kidnapper and closed the case they’d been working on, so that had to count for something, right? According to John it didn’t so Sherlock no longer worked alone. John quit the clinic and together they did The Work full-time.

It was a sad fact that most of their cases weren’t that complicated, at least to Sherlock, but high-crime in London didn’t seem to exist at the moment so they took the most interesting cases they could come across and still managed to dad full-time as well. Meli _always_ came first, accidental kidnappings notwithstanding. The lack of complexity though just meant that Sherlock solved more of them quicker and since they were all from paying clients and not the Yard they were doing quite well for themselves. John had worked out a rather brilliant fee system so that the cases that fell within more interesting parameters were slightly cheaper than boring cases which Sherlock didn’t really feel like doing. He called it _maintaining the balance_ , “You’ll be bored but at least we’ll be getting paid.”

They’d also achieved a proper if brief honeymoon. While Meli was still an infant John had taken Sherlock off to the highlands and rented a small cottage for a few days. Meli stayed with Greg and Mycroft despite Sherlock’s apprehensions about their possible negative affect on her mental development but Meli didn’t seem to suffer for it and Mycroft had proven himself to be a devoted and highly over-protective uncle. John had brought some items from what he kept calling their _tickle trunk_ and proceeded to spend their sex-holiday making up for the weeks of near abstinence they’d endured while they got use to life with Meli. It had been highly educational for both men and they had returned to London slightly wobblier but very happy. After that regular date nights were instituted and the only problem was assigning someone to look after Meli without everyone else feeling left out.

After being together for half a year as a family Sherlock presented a packet of papers to the courts and formally applied to adopt Meli as his daughter. It took several months before a decision was reached but now the paperwork were in their own frames right next to his marriage licence to John, the name _Meli Watson-Holmes_ emblazoned on a plaque in the center. Meli’s birth certificate now had Sherlock’s name on the line normally reserved for the mother but that couldn’t be helped, and he didn’t mind, not really. He kept everything in their office downstairs so he could look at them when he was at work. It always made Sherlock smile.

Their wedding rings had come in useful on several occasions as well, John always getting a particularly pleased smile on his face even though technically they were committing crimes, but since Sherlock had _always_ picked locks John was satisfied knowing his love-token was appropriate for them. “What can I do next?” John was washing up the breakfast dishes and beginning to set out stacks of paper plates and cups, all in yellow and black.

“We’ll have to hose the princess down so I guess after that we just need to make ourselves presentable and that’s pretty much it.”

Sherlock went first so while John was showering he gave Meli a quick wash in the kitchen sink, “It will be most inconvenient when you no longer fit in here.” he said. Meli had grown so much in this year, she was leggy, grabby, slippery, and full of giggles. She splashed everywhere so Sherlock’s robe ended up as wet as she was by the time he was done. Drying her off Sherlock deftly dressed her in a charming and stain-resistant dress he’d had waiting before climbing into his day-suit while Meli rolled around on the bedroom floor doing her best to eat her own foot.

John pulled on his black and white sweater as he came out the bathroom, his hair still damp but a huge smile on his face, “How are the beautiful people doing?” John scooped Meli up and did his best to straighten her unruly hair out but ended up just leaving it like they always did. Meli wouldn’t tolerate clips or ribbons, ripping them out and flinging them away the second she could grab them so they didn’t bother. John suddenly looked at her outfit, “Sherlock this better not be that designer dress I told you she didn’t need.”

“Don’t be silly John, of course it isn’t.” Sherlock had been too heavy-handed with his dismissal because John narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.

“It’s a whole different designer dress isn’t it,” Sherlock wouldn’t look at John but he nodded and pretended he was doing his buttons up still, “Sherlock, she’s a year old. She doesn’t need a dress that’s the same price as…” their doorbell rang and Sherlock scampered off to answer it before John could get further into his lecture. Meli looked marvelous in her special dress and Sherlock was owed a favor by the designer so it was practically if not exactly free!

There was a small crowd on the stoop so Sherlock stood to the side and let the League in, receiving kisses from all the parents as they went by. Sherlock then went over to Mrs. Hudson’s door but she shooed him away, “I’m almost done dear! Send Greg down when I call.”

“Very well Mrs. Hudson.” she was making the birthday cake herself. She and Mrs. Turner had been tittering around and planning it for ages. It was a cake. How complicated could it be?

Sherlock went back upstairs where Meli was being passed around for kisses and squeezes, her mountain of presents nearly obscuring the coffee table. John was handing out glasses of punch, and was forcing everyone to put on party hats shaped like cones. Sherlock scowled but John stuck one on his head while everyone sorted themselves out on the chairs. Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson cooing from downstairs, “Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson requires your assistance.”

“Right,” Sherlock endured the sight of Greg giving Mycroft a quick kiss and tried to delete the image but his old skill had faded with lack of use. He wanted to forget very little of the last year, in fact he hadn’t deleted anything in months. He sighed. He supposed the best he could do was shunt unwanted memories into a special room where they couldn’t escape and traumatize the rest of his mind palace.

“Everybody ready?” cooed Mrs. Hudson who came in through the door in front of Greg, hiding the cake from view. “Happy Birthday Meli…..” she sang and everyone joined in. When she got closer to Meli Mrs. Hudson stepped aside and everyone gasped. The cake was astounding. It was two tiers, each tier two layers and there was a giant candy bow on top but it had little candy bees on it fluttering around merrily and there was a lovely number one also in candy gracing the bow. Two Two One Bee. It was cartoonish, precise, and it smelled divine. Sherlock was impressed.

“That’s just perfect Mrs. Hudson.” he said smiling warmly at her, “That’s far better than anything I could have imagined.”

Mrs. Hudson just waved her hand dismissively as everyone took a good look at the cake, everyone taking pictures of it while they held Meli who was reaching for it eagerly. “Mrs. Turner and I took classes, it was ever so fun. She’d be here today but her hip is bothering her again, poor dear. She’s at her daughter’s for a day or so.” Sherlock would send her a thank you later but right now John was lighting the little candle and with Sherlock’s help Meli blew it out. Everyone cheered and Meli flapped her arms around in excitement.

John sat on his chair now with Meli on his knee while Sherlock helped Mrs. Hudson serve the cake and hand out beverages while everyone chattered out front and got her presents organized. Once the much photographed cake had been consumed Meli was shouting around gleefully, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy.”

It was the only word she used, and she used it for everything. Sherlock was a bit concerned because though she vocalized a lot Meli didn’t seem to be interested in even attempting to speak. She used grimaces, gestures, and her one word, to make her way through each and every day. “Alright honey-child, hold on. Here’s the first one. Go ahead, just like daddy showed you.”

There was a storm of pretty paper flying around the room in no time as Meli shredded one carefully wrapped parcel after another until all of them were unwrapped. Everyone oohed and ahhed at the gifts she got. Bill and Cam had sent her a foam play-mat cut into puzzle pieces with a map of the world printed on it and markers to color the countries in with. There were soft books and plush toys aplenty, all of them about science or nature. The plushies were all animals so Sherlock immediately began trying to get Meli to say the name of each phylum but she clearly wasn’t listening because she repeated nothing. Sherlock wasn’t discouraged. She’d heard the words; they were inside her baby mind palace now for her to utilize later when she got better at accessing it.

Everyone got a picture of themselves holding Meli and the gift they’d gotten her so Meli was thrilled and kept shouting her word at each of them. John took the camera from Lestrade when it was Sherlock’s turn and the detective sat on his chair with his daughter who was holding an armload of felt molecules that he planned to use to teach her chemistry. Both of them were smiling. “Say cheese!” teased John.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and was about to retort when Meli turned her face up to him with a big bright smile and said, “Hey mum!” everyone burst out laughing but Meli kept saying it, “Mum, mum, mum, DADDY, mum!”

Sherlock was slightly dismayed as well as thrilled. He didn’t really want to be referred to as mum but on the other hand Meli had decided on an appellation for him on her own. “How did she ever even hear that word?”

“Oh please Sherlock,” scoffed Greg, “With the amount of walks in the parks she’s gone on, and everyone everywhere stopping for a chat, how many people do you think have said the word _mum_ in front of her? Lots of mums stop and say hello.” 

Well that was true. Sherlock looked down at his daughter with mixed feelings but her little face, those sweet blue eyes that were just like her father’s now that the smoky steel of her baby eyes had changed, how could he protest? She recognized him, clearly she did, she showed preference for being with either him or John above all others, and though John was firmly daddy, and so was the sofa, the chairs, the tub, and everything else, now Sherlock had a name that she would be able to use whenever she needed him and that wasn’t a terrible thing at all, “Who loves Meli?” he smiled at her.

“Mum! Mum! Mum!” she wiggled again and clutched his shirt to press her face to him and wiggled some more.

“That’s right Meli, your mum loves you very much.” there was a lot of silence for a moment as everyone around Sherlock pretended they had something in their eye except for John who just let all the sentiment he was feeling shine right out for the world to see, “Mum loves his whole family.” It was a perfect day and went right into Sherlock’s crowded mind palace. He was building a whole new wing for Meli and John because there had been so many perfect days and Sherlock never wanted to forget a single moment. He’d lived long lonely years filled with ennui and despair, each new joy would shore him up as Sherlock pledged himself yet again to give those he loved as much happiness as he could manage because the very most important lesson he’d learned since he came back to life was that love grows and he was filled with it now. Life was sweet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who contributed so generously with the development of this fic by way of kudos, helpful and appreciative comments, plot bunnies, giggles, tears (I collect those btw), and outright laughter. My goal was to write the fluffiest of fluffy fics so fluffy that you got diabetes of the feels by the time you made it to this final chapter. The chapter a day personal challenge became very gruelling toward the end since I had originally assumed it would be ten chapters and not three times that many so yeah, it's been a long month.
> 
> Thanks
> 
> Um....The End

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoy commentary and it all feeds into future chapters. I've tried posting entirely completed fics and realized my stories are so much better when my readers get to contribute as they grow. This fic is just getting going and I have a fair amount done but if at any point you have an inspired thought you want to share, I'd love to see it.


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